


Possession Is Nine-Tenths...

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie is determined to keep Doyle alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession Is Nine-Tenths...

[ ](http://sc-fossil.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/481/133966)

"Possession is very strong; rather more than nine points of the law."  
from English Common Law

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law."  
a Commonly Used Aphorism

\--------------------

Bodie was one unhappy CI5 agent. He sat in the driver's seat of his Capri and stared out the windscreen at the building that loomed before him. Twin turrets stood sentinel on the main entrance into HMP Wormwood Scrubs. It was the last place on Earth Bodie wanted to visit. His guts churned at the idea of going inside and he wasn't surprised that he wished Doyle were here. He was better when his partner was beside him, whether he was snarky or being a tearaway. But Doyle wasn't here. He was off somewhere with that bitch, Ann Holly. Bodie was on his own. And he hated prisons. Went back to his Congo days... He cut off his thoughts before they went any farther into the past. 

"Stop being a coward," he muttered. "Get on with it. Get it done." 

Bodie had to do this because the man who had demanded an audience with him was inside those walls. A man who had saved his life several times (and never let Bodie forget it). Jimmy Keller had betrayed their friendship for money on one hand and on the other, he'd saved Bodie's life once again. Keller reminded Bodie of his sacrifices every time they met. He enjoyed gloating, yet Bodie understood Keller's attitude. He'd be rubbing Keller's nose in it if the roles had been reversed. 

Bodie stared at the building with distaste. He would have refused to meet with Keller under normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances. An encrypted message from his old boss, Major Nairn, had spurred Bodie into action with four words: Jimmy Keller - Operation Hellfire. Only five people in the entire world (a group which did not include George Cowley, Bodie thought with unrestrained glee) had known or knew about Operation Hellfire. Bodie had no choice; he had to meet with Keller and discover what information his old mate had. 

He breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled before he opened the glove box and put his gun inside. He locked it with precise movements, gathering his will power to walk inside that prison. Bodie climbed from the car and walked over to the entry way. He pushed the white button embedded in the wall and identified himself. Maybe they'd ignore his presence or tell him to be off. The door buzzed open. 

"Shit," Bodie muttered. "No such luck." A guard stood on the other side. 

"This way, sir," the uniformed man said. 

Bodie nodded, following. He was annoyed with himself because his feet seemed to be weighted down with lead. He was patted down and led to a small room. His CI5 identification gave him certain privileges. One was that he was allowed to see the prisoner in a private room where he was assured there would be no listening devices. National security and the Official Secrets Act, Bodie had insisted. His identity and requests must have cleared because he hadn't been questioned further when he presented his ID. 

Bodie sat on the hard pond-scum coloured plastic chair at a scuffed grey metal table and looked around, willing himself not to fidget. The room was awful. It was about twelve feet square. The walls were a dull grey colour and the floor was industrial brown. There were no windows. A stack of more ugly green chairs was piled in a corner. Fifteen minutes later the door opened and the guard brought in his old buddy, Jimmy Keller. Keller stood before Bodie, hands on hips, and they studied each other. 

About the same age as Bodie, Keller looked good. Considering his current accommodation, he was trim and fit. His brown hair fell in a thick fringe over his forehead and touched his shirt collar in the back. His prison issued dark blue overalls couldn't hide the muscles on his arms and torso. 

"Bodie, you old dog. How are you, mate?" Keller said congenially, acting as if they'd parted only days before after a drink at Bodie's local. 

"Keller," Bodie said sharply, still feeling the sting of his betrayal. "Been hitting the gym I see." 

Keller flexed an arm. "Might as well. Keeps me on me toes." 

Bodie grunted. "Sit down." 

Keller sank into the chair opposite Bodie and slouched indolently. "Bring me a pressie, Bodie-mate?" 

"Why would I bring you a pressie? You're the one who dragged me out here," Bodie snarked. 

"So I did. And you'll be thanking me after you hear what I have to say," Keller said with confidence. 

Bodie brought out a packet of Guards Tipped and put them on the table. "I doubt that." 

Keller laughed. "Appropriate," he drawled, the cigs disappearing so quickly that Bodie reckoned Keller thought he'd take back his offering. 

"What do you have?" Bodie asked bluntly. 

Keller's face fell. "Why Bodie, I'm so hurt. After all these months you don't want to revisit old times?" 

Bodie rolled his eyes. "You want me to thank you again, eh?" 

"Why not?" 

"Christ, Keller, you're such a shit." Keller showed his teeth. Bodie sighed. "I appreciate you saving my arse. Now tell me what information you have or I'm out of this sodding place." 

Keller looked knowingly at Bodie. "You don't like prison?" he asked innocently. Bodie glared. Keller grinned. "Oh right! You've been inside of one before, haven't you? Bet it wasn't the palace this one is." He waved expansively around the dreary room. At Bodie's tight lipped glare, he sighed loudly. "All right, Bodie. Jesus, first visitor I've had in ages and he's a prat." He cast his eyes heavenward. Bodie didn't believe Keller knew how to pray. As if reading his thoughts, Keller shrugged. "Tell me, mate, why did you come?" 

Bodie paused, making quick mental calculations on how to get the most information out of Keller in the least amount of time. Keller would spill more if he was feeling in control, leading the conversation. Keller was a berk that way. "Missed your ugly mug," Bodie said smartly. 

"Pull the other one," Keller tossed back, his tone equally as sarcastic. 

Bodie leaned forward onto his elbows. "I got a message from our old boss. He said you had something for me that I couldn't miss." 

"Whether you want to or not, eh?" Keller said.

"Apparently." 

"I don't blame you, mate. This is crap but it's reliable crap." Keller mirrored Bodie's position and he leant close enough so that their faces were mere inches apart. Quietly, he said, "There's a queen in London." 

Bodie was sure his face drained of colour. His stomach twisted. Sweat beaded on his forehead and between his shoulder blades. He hoped Keller didn't notice. But the info- it couldn't be. _Please don't let it be true._ He hoped that Keller was referring to the one living in Buckingham Palace. "How do you know?" 

"I've got a pretty thorough network in here. I can't swear to it in court, of course, but I trust the intel I've been given. The source is reliable." 

Bodie stared into Keller's eyes. No such luck regarding this particular queen then. Keller was telling the truth, at least as he believed it. "Why would you get this intel?" 

"Guy owed me a favour. This was his payment." Keller held Bodie's gaze. "I wouldn't lie to you." 

Bodie scoffed. "Right." 

Keller's face flushed. "Get the fuck out of my face, Bodie." 

Bodie put a hand on Keller's forearm when he started to stand. "Come on, Keller. I'm sorry, all right?" 

Keller jerked his arm away. "I'm not pulling one over on you. I'm concerned. You were there, Bodie. We both were. You saw what one of these bitches can do." 

"You mean that, don't you," Bodie stated, seeing something in Keller's eyes that he didn't like: fear. 

Keller nodded. "You need to kill it." He stared at Bodie for a full minute. "What aren't you telling me?" 

Bodie had to look away. 

"Bodie? You owe me." 

"This answers some questions about- something that's happened recently." 

"Oh?" 

Bodie looked around, feeling as if he had a shadow hanging over him. He shook off the idea. "I think I've got a good idea where she is. Who she is." 

"Great! Go and off her tonight," Keller exclaimed. 

"It's not that easy!" Bodie snarled. 

Keller inspected Bodie intently for a good half a minute before he leaned back in his chair and began to laugh. It was a cold sound. "Oh Jesus. I get it now! That mate of yours. He got snagged by a fucking vampire." Bodie didn't answer. Keller continued to guffaw. "What a moron." 

"Don't push me, Keller," Bodie warned, pointing a finger at him. "Your information didn't tell me something I wouldn't have figured out on my own in a day or two. I already had suspicions about this woman." 

Keller's laughter faded. He turned serious. "Ah, Bodie, don't be like that. My intel turned your suspicions into fact. And I am sorry about your mate. You know I hope you get him free before it's too late." 

"It's not too late," Bodie insisted. It couldn't be too late. Not for Doyle. Bodie wouldn't let it be. 

"How long's it been?" 

"Ten days." 

"Ah. All right. Could be you're right. Best move fast," Keller said sagely. "I hope you're grateful. Actually, I hope Nairn's grateful. I might have saved your boyfriend's sorry arse. Although from what I remember, it's a tight arse. Just the way you like them." 

"He's not my-! You're a prick, Keller." Bodie looked away before he gave up. Keller always did know how to get under his skin. "What do you want for this brilliant info?" 

"You put a bug in Nairn's ear about my help. Get me some privileges." 

"Is that all? I figured you'd want springing or some other load of bollocks." 

Keller snorted. "I'm not that daft. I doubt Doyle's lily white arse is worth my getting out of this hell hole. I'll settle for a few extra perks. Besides, I've got quite a nice business going on in here. I'm saving for retirement." 

Bodie wasn't surprised. Being locked up didn't mean a bloke's business suffered. Knowing Keller, his was better than when he was on the outside. But Bodie wanted to make the bastard squirm before he agreed. He glared at Keller for a long moment before he nodded. "Done." 

"Shall we shake? A gentlemen's agreement?" Keller held out his hand. 

"You're no gentlemen," Bodie said, grasping the outstretched hand firmly. 

"And neither are you." 

They both laughed. 

"True," Bodie agreed. 

"This is nasty business," Keller said seriously. "There are probably only a dozen men on this planet alive today who've ever hunted a vampire. I know you didn't like the game but I didn't mind it. I've worked a bunch more cases since you and I did that one bitch in." He looked excited and his admission made Bodie want to punch him in the mouth. He kept his trap shut. If Keller liked it, so be it. He listened to Keller prattling on. "There's not a big need any longer since most were rubbed out over the centuries and the past few decades there was a real push to wipe out the dregs that had escaped the major dragnets. I'm sure the few left on our precious island are desperate to remain undetected." Keller beamed. "And after you kill this one, there'll be one less to torment our fellow human beings."

"Yeah," Bodie agreed. "You're a real humanitarian." 

Keller grinned. "Made a hundred thou on the last one." 

Bodie knew he looked astonished. "What the fuck did you do with that much cash?" 

"The usual. Women, gambling, liquor." Keller shrugged. "I live a high life when I can." He turned business-like in an instant. "You remember what you need?" 

Bodie sighed, nodding. "Yeah. I got an old kit in my lock-up." 

"Get it updated. Any silver needs a good polish and the holy water should be replaced. Gives it an extra kick if it's fresh. If you prefer wood, I'd make a few new stakes from good solid oak. No sense using rotting stakes." Bodie made a mental list while Keller ticked off the tools. "Me, I like the feel of a good quality silver stake. You know where to go?" Bodie shook his head. "Right. Not that you've had a need for any connections of this sort these past years and not in jolly old England." Keller stood up and leaned over Bodie. "St. Bart's. Black bloke wearing a priest's collar. Goes by the name of Joseph. Tell him I sent you and give him the password. He'll make sure you have what you need."

Bodie stood up. He had a few quid on him and he held it out. 

Keller shook his head. "Keep your money, Bodie. I'm doing okay with my operation in here." Bodie put the notes away. Keller put a hand on his arm. "I hope your mate's okay. Just remember what that thing is capable of. Keep away from her. Don't let her touch you. Her skin is bad enough; it will make you go bananas, want to fuck her on the spot, but worst of all is her bodily fluids, and I mean all of them. You get my drift?" 

"Yes. Spit, tears, blood, pussy." Bodie's stomach twisted as he recited the list. 

"Right. You remember what happened when you got blood on you from the one we offed. Sent you off to La La land in seconds." Keller's brow wrinkled. "Is he fucking her?" 

"How the hell would I know that?" 

Keller snorted. "You're his best mate. You should know. If he's shagging her, it could be harder to save him." 

"Why?" Bodie asked. His encounters with vampires before hadn't been involved enough to have understood all the nuances of queen vampires, and now he wanted all the information he could get. 

"A queen doesn't shag just anybody. She only comes into her cycle once in a while, every ten, twelve years, and she picks the lucky fellow carefully." 

"I'm planning on bugging the crap out of his place, and hers if I can. Is it important?" 

"Could be. I don't know first hand, of course, but it's said that if a human male shags a queen, he's pretty much a goner. Her pussy has some heavy duty aphrodisiac powers. Fries his brain to a crisp. A couple of good screws and he's a raving nutter, if he survives that is. The good thing is she won't fuck anybody with a dick. She'll pick quality because chances are the brat won't live unless everything is in alignment. So they don't waste a chance of a quick screw." 

"Oh, goodie," Bodie said sarcastically. "That's enough to make me spew up." He wiped at the sweat beading on his forehead. "Is it always this hot in here?" 

"This?" Keller said. "This is Shangri-la, mate." 

Bodie met Keller's eyes. "Listen, Keller. Thanks." 

"Oh, cheers." Keller let out a derisive short. "Now get the fuck out of here." 

Bodie went to the door and knocked. The guard opened it and Bodie stepped out into the hallway. When he looked back, Keller saluted him. Bodie tipped his head in thanks and walked off. 

\-------------------------

On the drive to Doyle's flat for a meal with his partner and Ann Holly, Bodie decided to make a mental list of things he hated. On the list was making visits to the country's warm and welcoming prisons. They reminded him of the time he'd been imprisoned in that God forsaken country he refused to think about. Add that country to the list as well. That visit to Wormwood Scrubs was not on the top of his list of "things to do in London". He put it at a number three. But what occupied the number one and number two spots made Bodie push down the accelerator and negotiate the city's crowded streets when he'd rather hide under the blankets on his bed. He snorted, imagining himself huddled under them, a shivering lump of cowardice. 

"What a crappy day," he said. "Leading into a crappier evening. Marvellous." So far the day had been shit. He doubted that tonight would work out any better. "I can't wait," Bodie muttered. This was the first time he'd be in the company of Miss Ann Holly for more than two minutes. The brief encounter in her flat hallway after the shoot out didn't count because his adrenaline had been running high. He hadn't had time to register much about her past the pale face, red hair and haughty demeanour. Tonight he'd sit next to her and study her intently, judge for himself if she was the threat he believed she was. 

Bodie would also keep a close eye on Doyle. His partner had been acting strangely for the past week. He'd begged off all the invites Bodie had extended for a quick pint or a night in with take away. Doyle had shook his head at each request and had happily said he was spending the time with Ann. Bodie could do nothing but nod and bid him a jovial "have fun, mate" or a lecherous "don't do anything I wouldn't do". Doyle merrily skipped off, leaving Bodie puzzled and slightly jealous. 

But Bodie knew Doyle and he also knew that something wasn't quite right. While Doyle performed his job with his usual competence, he was looking paler than usual. Bodie knew he was being ridiculous with his worrying, but he could have sworn that Doyle had lost weight. To make matters worse, the day before when he and Doyle had lunch, he'd seen Doyle's hand shaking when he reached for the mustard. Alerted, he saw the tremor several more times during the day. He declared himself officially worried now. 

Bodie blamed Doyle's condition on Miss Ann Holly. After today's meeting with Keller, he now had a good idea of the "whys" of what he deemed Doyle's mental and physical quirks. 

Doyle was going out with a vampire. 

Thinking the words made him clutch the steering wheel, his knuckles white. His guts twisted in a knot and he clenched his teeth together, making his jaw ache. He would do anything to save his partner, up to and including staking the woman in front of Doyle if he had to. He'd prefer to have her disappear quietly and privately but to save Doyle, he didn't discount any method of removal. 

Removed she would be, he vowed. 

Bodie forced himself to relax. He turned left, taking a short cut through one of the local parks to Doyle's flat. The day had been warm, one of those beautiful London days he usually enjoyed. But tonight he didn't see the newly blooming flowers or the people enjoying the mild evening. The couples pushing prams or kids playing with dogs didn't register. He was single minded, on a mission. He would tolerate no distractions. 

Coming out of the park, Bodie turned right and stopped at the traffic lights. Two cars tried to get through the road junction at the same time. All Bodie could do was sit and watch the crash occur. 

"Oh, Christ," he complained. "I'll never get to Doyle's at this rate." The thick scent of petrol fumes itched his nose as he sat waiting for the accident to clear. The extra minutes with nothing to do but sit gave Bodie far too much time to think about another thing he hated. 

At the top of Bodie's list, in the prized number one spot, were vampires. In number two was vampire hunting. The drivers finally cleared the junction and he was able to cautiously navigate around them, avoiding the broken windscreen glass littering the tarmac. Vampire hunting. Even thinking it sounded ridiculous. If he hadn't done it himself on three occasions, he wouldn't believe it could happen. Give him a platoon of gun runners with sub-machine guns shooting at him and he would go in with his own gun blazing. But vampire killing ops had not made him a happy mercenary. All in all, Bodie reckoned he'd rather be in CI5 protecting Queen and country. He didn't miss those merc days in the least. 

Bodie drove away from the scene of the accident. A pub on the corner beckoned to him. Why not pull over and have a pint or ten? Drink himself stupid and forget about this assignment. Sounded like a smart idea yet he didn't stop. He drove past the pub and the next and the next, and kept on driving. Christ, he was a moron. As if he'd abandon Doyle. Doyle was his family, the person most important to him in his life. 

Sometimes he hated his life. 

Bodie snorted with wry amusement. A lot of blokes would think the life of a merc was romantic, something to be desired. Sure, he'd seen some amazing things when he was a pay for hire soldier. He'd made a packet of cash. But he'd encountered some horrific times. He'd been in that African jail, beaten, abused, starved. Definitely not romantic. 

He'd killed more men than he could possibly count. Most had it coming; a few hadn't but had got in the way. He regretted that loss of life but he couldn't let it affect him. He had a job to do today, now, in London with CI5 and with Doyle. This is where he wanted to be. 

Bodie's r/t chirped. 

"3.7." said Doyle. "Where are you, mate?" 

"Evening, 4.5. Looking for a bloody parking space. Your street is a mess." 

"Yeah. It's hard to find a slot. If you can't make it for dinner, you can't make it." 

Christ. Doyle was trying to put him off. Bodie wasn't having it. He had to find out what the hell was going on with his partner. Tonight. 

"I'll make it. Besides, I've driven over here now and I'm starved. See you in ten." He tossed the r/t onto the passenger seat and began earnestly searching for a parking space. He'd put the Capri on a pavement if he had to and let the local coppers tow it off before he'd renege on tonight's dinner. 

Bodie's mind refused to cool it. All he could think about was Keller and vampires and his missions. 

His first vampire hunting mission had been in the Sudan. He was well paid but a sodding rookie when he'd taken the job. The experience had been awful even though he'd been successful. That male vampire had ripped up thirty people before he and his partner at the time, Dick Richardson, had cornered the creature. It had put up a horrendous fight before Bodie had managed to stake the bloody thing. Richardson managed to decapitate it in spite of the vicious bite he'd sustained on his arm. He enjoyed that part so Bodie let him have the honour. It wasn't an honour that he regretted foregoing. 

Richardson had lifted the disgusting head high and chortled with delight. Bodie had hid his lurching stomach and dumped paraffin on the rest of the corpse. When the thing burned brightly, Richardson regretfully tossed his prize into the flames. Bodie had a feeling that Richardson would have kept the horrid thing if he could have. 

Bodie had vowed to never willingly accept a vampire hunting mission again. Thankfully they didn't come along often and a couple of the other blokes loved the jobs. He got cornered into performing the task on two more occasions. Once because he was afraid he'd be considered a coward if he hadn't taken the op, and of course, that time with Keller in Ireland when they'd both been in the SAS. Bodie was thankful that the constant hunting through the centuries and their abysmal ability to breed had finally managed to eradicate the majority of vampires. The few left in the world hid themselves well. Bodie wondered how it would go over with the common masses if they discovered that real vampires weren't turned like on the telly or in films. They were born from queens and their offspring were closely guarded treasures. 

He circled another street with no success. Why hadn't he taken a cab? Where was he in his trip down memory lane? Right. The second mission he'd taken was when he'd backed up Krivas. Krivas was such a psychotic bastard that all Bodie had to do was stand back and stay out of his way when they'd managed to corner the young male vampire. Krivas had hacked through the creature with maniacal intensity. The only good thing about that particular kill was the creature had "only" killed livestock up to that point. 

The third kill had been the worst. It had given Bodie nightmares for years. If it hadn't been for Keller, he'd more than likely be dead now. He acknowledged that he and Keller had worked well together. Back then, he didn't think it was possible to have a better mate. Now he knew differently. Doyle was his equal. Hell, if push came to shove, he loved Doyle as much as he'd ever loved anybody in his lifetime, including a few birds he'd fallen for. 

Keller had been tasked to hunt down the rarest of vampires: a queen. Bodie agreed to hunt with him. Now he reckoned it was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but that was water under the bridge. It was the mission that was burned into his brain, scene by scene. He'd pay good money to have it erased from his memories. Whisky helped but it wasn't strong enough by half. 

Since only a handful of people in the world knew about the existence of vampires anyway, having knowledge of a queen was information tantamount to knowing the size and colour of Maggie Thatcher's knickers. Bodie and Keller had been sworn in under the official secrets act when they were provided the information that the queen was living in the rural Irish countryside. She kept a low profile, living quietly, far from villages and towns. Isolation was the only reason the female vampire had managed to survive for so long. 

They tracked the vampire to a small farm many miles from the nearest village. They observed the area for several days, planning their assault with care. The farm was neat and tidy, with a vegetable garden and a small pen with two head of sheep and a flock of chickens. 

The day they moved in, Bodie kept careful watch from behind a wood pile while Keller got closer. In the two days they'd lain in wait, they'd seen the female only once. They hadn't seen her captive, her blood slave at all. Keller had finally signalled for Bodie to wend his way towards the house. When he caught up with Keller, they exchanged quick words. 

"We've got to get the blood sucker's captive out of there first." Keller's eyes darted constantly, keeping watch. 

Keller's caution made Bodie stay on high alert. He constantly checked their surroundings. "What if her blood slave is too far gone? The other lads said they waste away to skin and bones before they croak." Bodie grimaced. "Unless this is a new fellow, he probably won't recover. Right?" 

"It's not always a bloke," Keller snarled. "I hate fucking vampires." 

Bodie didn't respond but he certainly agreed. Keller studied him, his eyes looking large and angry as they peered out of the green camo paint. They hunkered down together, and Bodie prayed that their camouflage clothing was good enough to give them time to get within striking distance. 

"I've already seen the captive," Keller finally admitted. "We'll have to take it out." 

"I reckoned as much," Bodie said, his stomach lurching. He'd never killed a civilian on purpose and the idea made him break out into a cold sweat. The chill in the air didn't help, and he shivered, biting his lower lip. 

"Ready?" 

Bodie nodded once. He had no illusions about what he was willing to do. There was no way he'd allow a sodding vampire to feed off somebody if he could stop it. 

"Look at the garden." Keller cocked his head towards the rows of greenery. "Hasn't been weeded in a week. Any good companion knows that they need to keep things growing in order to survive. Their appetite is huge while their blood is being drained bit by bit, every single-." 

"Shut up. I've already said yes. You don't have to convince me we're taking out the captive," Bodie snarled. He hefted a machete in his right hand. "It's high noon. I know queens aren't extremely light sensitive but if she's not been feeding regularly, her defences could be down enough so that we can do this without getting our arses kicked into next week. I hate vampire bites." 

Keller grinned. "Let's do it then, Cinderella."

"Don't call me that." 

Keller smirked. Side by side, they crept to the nearest window. No one challenged their approach. Keller rose gingerly, then signalled Bodie. 

He stood cautiously and peered in to get a lay of the land. The room was a large square, with a fireplace along one wall. Handmade furniture was scattered here and there, and a rough kitchen occupied another wall. Bodie couldn't see clearly in the corners but that wasn't what interested him. It was the two figures in one corner. He blinked, making sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. A young woman hovered over a camp bed on which an elderly man lay. 

Bodie couldn't turn away when the vampire moved. She sank her fangs into the naked man's thigh. Bodie had never actually seen a vampire feed. He knew the mechanics of it, how they drank from any large being, but seeing it in the flesh was different than being told the tales. 

Bodie's entire body rebelled at the idea of a vampire sucking blood from his own body. His forehead dripped with sweat. It ran down his face, and he swiped it away impatiently. In spite of knowing that the blood slave was enthralled, he was shocked that the man didn't protest. 

Logically, Bodie understood how a queen lived, survived. She had complete control over her slave. A slave lived for a queen's touch. A single drop of the queen's bodily fluids turned the strongest, most resistant man or woman into a begging, mewling slave, one that longed for the tormentor's touch. 

The slave gave his blood without question and in return, was given sexual ecstasy as his reward. The longer a queen drank from her victim, the more the captive fell under her spell until their separation would cause the blood slave to fall into desperation, then madness. Death was a relief when it came. The queen suffered no such separation anxiety. She merely moved onto her next victim. 

Vampire males did not breed with a queen. Bodie had been told that even if a queen fucked a male vampire, there would never be an offspring. That was one of the "good" things about vampires, if good could be used in any sense of the word. They couldn't breed easily and they couldn't "turn" a human being into one of their kind. 

Bodie stared with wide eyes as the old man's shrunken body writhed in ecstasy while she drank. His eyes were wide with pleasure and his cracked lips were pulled back in what resembled a grin. His head tossed fretfully, the thin wisps of his white hair floating in the air. His cock was shrivelled and lay limp against his thigh. Bodie was astonished when the man's cock managed to jerk once. The queen raised her head. Her lips were coated in the man's blood. Droplets splashed onto his leg and she leaned down to lick them. The man looked as if he were gasping for air. His scrawny chest heaved several times. He stiffened and then it appeared as if his body shrank into the mattress. The man had died. 

Unconsciously he stood up and pushed his face to the window. The vampire queen rose and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Bodie felt a sudden pain in the back of his knee. He let out a yelp, falling to the ground. 

Keller leaned close. "Jesus Christ," he hissed. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

"Sorry," Bodie muttered, shuddering at the images burned into his brain. He righted himself and hunkered down under the window beside Keller, feeling sick. He hoped he didn't lose his breakfast. Keller would never let him live it down. "Bloke's dead. Sorry." How the hell could he be so stupid? Did she see him? 

He wasn't surprised how clearly the details of that day stood out and the idiocy of his actions still rankled him all these years later. Bodie drove up Doyle's road once again, cursing at the horrendous parking problem in this neighbourhood. He halted at a give way sign and lifted his hand, imagining a machete in it. 

He was instantly back in the Irish countryside, kneeling on the ground beside Jimmy Keller. He blinked, dazed at the images that seemed so real. 

Keller had unsheathed his machete. He held the knife in his right hand and a hand gun in his left. "Now, you bloody idiot!" he ordered, shoving Bodie with his shoulder. 

Bodie was on his feet, his weapons in hand. Keller kicked in the door and Bodie followed at his heels. It had been a bloody fight. The queen fought viciously but her recent feedings must have been minuscule. Her reflexes were dulled and that was the only thing that saved them. Bodie ended up needing thirty stitches on his chest and arms; Keller suffered a broken arm. They'd fought down and dirty in order to gain the upper hand and Bodie had been the one to finally find the opening to hack at her neck. The vampire screamed when the machete's blade bit into her skin. The holy water Bodie had anointed his blade with slid through her flesh like a warm knife through butter. Her head flew through the air, hit the wood floor with a thud and rolled against the wall. The vampire's body dropped like a rock. Blood sprayed everywhere, falling like so much red rain. Bodie didn't have time to cover his face and the blood splattered into his skin and down his clothing. 

A sense of euphoria hit Bodie full blast. His body tingled with arousal. His brain shut down and his cock hardened. He stumbled to his knees and was vaguely aware that he'd crashed onto the hard floor. All he cared about was the lust that overwhelmed him. Every cell and nerve of his body cried with unbridled ecstasy and he never wanted it to end. He wanted, needed more, and he called out for it. 

It was a quarter of an hour before Bodie returned to his senses. He was cold and wet, and he lay shivering on the floor in a puddle of water. Keller stood over him, one arm held tightly against his chest. His other hand held a bucket. 

"What the fuck?" Bodie groaned, rolling to his hands and knees. 

"Don't ever let a queen touch you! Jesus, Bodie, but you're such a rookie! Not her hands and especially not her juices! Saliva or blood or her fucking pussy!" Keller began to laugh. "Fucking pussy... I like that. Get it?" 

Bodie shuddered with cold. Keller was a moron and he wasn't feeling all that great at the moment. "What happened?" he blurted out. 

Keller had banged Bodie on the head with the bucket. 

"Hey! That hurt!" 

"Not as much as a vampire's come! Now help me with this sodding arm. It's fucking busted!" Keller spat. "And you're bleeding all over the damned place. I'll bandage you up." Keller gave Bodie a hugely satisfied grin. "And I need a bloody big shot of whisky." 

Bodie looked down at himself. In the heat of battle, he hadn't realised he'd been hurt until Keller's remark. His injuries made their presence known. Maybe it was because the sudden rush of lust and arousal had faded away, leaving his entire body screaming in pain. He hated vampires. 

Bodie's stomach lurched when he'd looked down at the dead body of the old man. Keller stood beside him. 

"He could be our age, you know," Keller mused. 

"You're joking," Bodie said automatically even though he knew Keller wasn't joking at all. 

Keller nodded. "She drinks a mouthful every day or two. He fades away inch by inch until he's like this, dried and shrivelled." 

"How long does it take?" Bodie had asked, staring at the old man. He looked eighty. "Christ." 

"I'm not a God-damned encyclopedia. You ask too many sodding questions." 

"I need to know, just in case," Bodie insisted. 

Keller sighed. "It takes anything from a few weeks to a couple of months to become addicted to her. Depends on the bloke or bird." 

Bodie shuddered. "Let's do this." 

Keller picked up a container marked paraffin. "Toss her up here." 

Bodie grimaced but did as told, dumping the vampire's headless body on top of the dead man. He looked around and found the head in a dark corner. With the bile rising in his throat, he picked it up by the hair and deposited it on the bed. Keller dumped the fuel over the bodies then flung the rest of it around the room. They walked to the door and Bodie flicked a lit match onto the wet trail. It swooshed, red and yellow flames grew. The flames ran down the trail and when they hit the mattress, the fire exploded with a louder whooshing sound. Keller turned to leave, with Bodie close behind. 

That had been the last time Bodie had seen Jimmy Keller until he'd shown up on the deck of that boat and then had tried to steal a suitcase full of money from some undesirable characters. This morning at the prison reminded Bodie of what they'd gone through together. They were memories Bodie didn't want and he wasn't at all happy to be reminded of those days. 

"Ha!" Bodie chortled triumphantly. He waited for the red Jaguar that had started up to pull out of its parking space and roar off. He zipped into the open space and turned off the ignition. "Mine! Possession and all." He grinned. 

Walking the short distance back to Doyle's flat, Bodie reckoned that he wasn't in the mood to pick up the vampire hunting gauntlet again. Like he had a choice. Doyle had been in Ann Holly's company for about ten days. Time was running short and if Bodie didn't get Doyle away from her, there was a good chance he couldn't be saved. 

That was something Bodie wouldn't let happen. Doyle had no idea that he was being overtaken slowly. He was becoming an addict, and he wouldn't know or remember it happening. The only thing Doyle would want was the sexual release Ann could give him. 

Time was of the essence. The thought of Doyle being enslaved for years until he withered and died before his time, an old man in his forties, made Bodie furious. It was true that he only had suspicions, but if they were realised tonight, then Ann Holly was a dead woman. He would tear into the thing and pound her into a pile of broken bones and spilled blood. Then he would behead her. 

Bodie came to an abrupt stop. There was a problem. 

Cowley had no idea about the existence of vampires. Bodie couldn't explain it to him and Ann Holly might be the key to bringing down an entire drugs smuggling ring. If Ann were involved, her disappearance now could tip off the smugglers and they would merely change their plans. Keeping drugs worth thousands if not millions of pounds off the streets was important. Could he let the operation run its course? Could he sacrifice Doyle for the sake of dozens if not hundreds of other lives? No, he couldn't. 

Could he delay killing Ann for, say, forty-eight hours? Possibly. 

Bodie walked up the five steps to the main entrance of Doyle's building. He stood there for a moment staring at the door buzzer next to the name "MacBeth." Doyle did like his little jokes. He started to press the button but his hand faltered mid-air. He was hesitant because this could change his life, and those changes might not be for the better. He shook his head, sighing noisily.

How in the hell could his entire world fall apart in such a short time? Only days ago, he and Doyle had a great partnership, about perfect, as far as he was concerned. They were best friends, partners, and (the part Bodie enjoyed most) lovers. The term was too formal for what they shared, yet what word explained their relationship better? They shagged each other senseless and liked it. They spent their days (and a lot of nights) in HM's service. They watched telly, drank at each other's locals and generally spent a good deal of their time side by side. It had worked for both of them. Doyle hadn't voiced any major complaints. Then Miss Ann Holly came into the picture. With hindsight, Bodie realised he should have "accidentally" plugged her in that hallway. That he hadn't was turning into his biggest regret. 

Bodie understood that things weren't quite right. Ann wasn't quite right. Doyle was certainly not quite right. And Cowley had put Bodie onto Doyle, which definitely wasn't quite right. Bodie let out yet another huge sigh. He wasn't much better himself. Planting a surveillance device in his partner's bedroom was beyond horrible. The fact that he was following Cowley's orders didn't make it any easier. When Bodie had pushed the request for three bugging devices into Cowley's face, his controller hadn't even blinked. He'd signed the request while casting a gimlet eye at Bodie. The entire situation stank, yet... Yet on some level Bodie was glad he'd planted those bugs in Doyle's flat. If nothing else, maybe it would prove that nothing untoward was going on with Miss Holly and by attachment, Raymond Doyle. Keeping Doyle safe was Bodie's main concern and if it took a few bugs to do that, Bodie was resigned to it. 

Bodie wished he had some sort of psychic vision so that he could have stopped Doyle when he'd said, "See you later", outside of Ann's block of flats that day he'd shot Conroy. Doyle had given him that evil grin that told him that he'd go back to Ann's flat, grovel, apologise, snog her senseless and drop her. 

Bodie had seen him do it time and time again to dozens of birds. But this time, it was different. Doyle was infatuated with this woman, might be falling in love. Bodie had known he was in major trouble when he'd needled Doyle about Ann after they'd rousted Tony. He'd been so daft. Why had he said the "m" word when Doyle's emotions were a mess? He tossed it out, expecting Doyle to protest loudly, to remind Bodie that they were shagging and that this woman, like many others, was a mere distraction. When Doyle had said he might marry Ann, Bodie's heart had dropped to his feet. A "might" was enough to send his entire body into a rage. It was a good thing he'd been driving or he'd have smacked Doyle a good one. What was Doyle playing at? They were together, weren't they? Together as in- What? Fucking each other. 

_Right. Remember, Bodie, that's all you've got- had- with Ray. Now that's gone. Keep at him and the partnership, and your friendship will be next._

Bodie found the strength to push the buzzer. 

"Yes?" 

"It's me." 

"Me?" 

"Open the bloody door, Doyle," Bodie growled. 

Doyle's voice was cheery. "Come on, then." 

The lock snicked open and Bodie pushed inside. He climbed the stairs slowly, not in any hurry for this night to happen. Bodie didn't know what he'd do if he discovered Ann Holly was the perfect woman for Doyle, and that they were in love. The idea of them together was ludicrous. Doyle wouldn't, couldn't, fall in love because... Bodie stomped on the next thought he had wanted to bring forth. Love. Not for him. And certainly not for two agents of CI5. Male agents, he reminded himself. It was not to be. 

"You've never seen Ray in love before, so how do you know this isn't how he'd react?" Bodie muttered. "Could be this **is** a Ray-in-love." The thought turned his stomach. "Jesus." He stared down at his hand, as if for the first time seeing the bottle of red wine he was carrying. He was being a polite guest and bringing a gift but he honestly didn't remember picking it up from the passenger's seat. "I'm losing it. All this thinking is too much," he said darkly. If there was something else Bodie hated, it was having to try and do what Cowley did best: double and triple think. He liked simple: bad guys needed capturing and/or killing, a good drink, a good shag, a good meal. Plotting and conniving gave him headaches. 

Standing in front of Doyle's door, he stared at the colourful cut glass window. Mixed emotions warred inside him. He knew he had to go in and work this out. He had to prove to himself that Ann Holly was dangerous and needed to be eliminated. What he didn't like was the idea of hurting Doyle. He'd miss her; he could even be in love with her and how would losing her make him feel? "Shitty," Bodie whispered. But getting rid of her was Bodie's goal and he was man enough to admit he was jealous at the idea of Ann and Doyle in bed. That image brought up something else he hated admitting. _What about me?_ He let the thought coalesce and it sounded petulant. But he had good reason. What about what he and Doyle had shared? All the months and years of being careful not to get caught with their pants down. The nights of passionate sex followed by mornings when they both pretended nothing had happened. It had been working for them. They'd liked their relationship. It was what they both wanted. Wasn't it? All the talk about settling down with Ann bloody Holly had been just that: talk. 

"You're apparently wrong," Bodie admitted under his breath. "You were betting on the wrong horse." 

Bodie knocked, ready to blast Doyle if the locks weren't set. He heard footsteps approach and the locks being released. Bodie was relieved that Ann's presence hadn't taken away Doyle's ability to remember the necessary precautions about protection. He gave himself one last talking to before the door opened. 

_"You're an ex merc, a killer, not some sweet smelling, soft fleshed female able to give the bloke you lo- care about a family. Go grow some bollocks, shut it and be a sodding man about it!"_

Bodie squared his shoulders and gave Doyle a huge grin. 

"Evening, Ray," Bodie said loudly, putting far too much exuberance in his voice. 

Doyle gave him a curious glance. "Bodie. About time." 

"Sorry. Traffic," Bodie said, entering the flat and flourishing the wine. "With thanks for your culinary efforts." He gave an exaggerated bow, making Doyle laugh. 

"You're such a clown," Doyle said. He turned and drew Ann forward. "This is Ann Holly. Ann, Bodie, my partner." 

Bodie again bowed gallantly yet the hairs on the back of his neck rose. His body wanted to back up. With a force of will, Bodie stayed put and held out his hand. She smiled at him, ignoring his outstretched hand.

"Miss Holly, my pleasure." Bodie looked into her eyes. They were a deep luminous green that made him want him to come closer, to dive into their depths. He shivered, feeling his arms break out into goose flesh. He managed to smile at her with as much warmth as he could muster. 

"Mr Bodie," Ann said, a cool smile on her lips. "It's so good to meet you after all the delightful things Ray has said about you." 

Ann's voice was rich, melodious. It tickled his senses, a pleasant sensation. She was pretty, if pale for his tastes. Bodie studied her intently. She had a good figure, slim with curves in the right places. Her hair was an attractive red and her eyes were highlighted with a pleasing green shadow on her lids and outlined in black liner. He reckoned that the enhancement was what made her eyes so striking. He wasn't ready to admit to himself that it could be her vampire attributes that added to her beauty. He could be under her spell right now. Bodie blinked and licked his lips, staring at Ann's. They were a blood red shade and she had a sweet bow shape to them. Bodie could see why Doyle was attracted to her because Bodie knew he was being drawn to her. He shuddered. 

"Bodie," Doyle said softly, stepping between them. 

"Eh?" Bodie said, Doyle effectively breaking the invisible hold Ann seemed to have on him. He shook his head minutely. Was he imagining that he was being drawn in, that Ann had "something" that was wrapping around his psyche? Thank Christ Doyle had interfered. _Be careful,_ he warned himself. Remember your reasons for being here. Remember who she could be. Bodie took off his coat and put it aside. Remember **what** she could be, he corrected. "Sorry. I was distracted by your beauty," he said to Ann. "You're much too attractive for this golly." Bodie jerked a finger at Doyle. Doyle gave him a toothy grin that promised retribution at some later date. Bodie gave Doyle his best "bring it on" face. 

Ann's gaze met Bodie's. She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Mr Bodie." 

"It's Bodie. No mister. Drink?" Bodie asked, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He needed whisky to settle his nerves. 

"Dinner first. It's ready." Doyle went up into the kitchen and pulled a casserole dish from the oven. 

"Nice table," Bodie remarked, looking at the plates, bowls and cutlery laid out nicely. Doyle was using his best dishes given to him by his gran. "Doyle's a good cook," he said to Ann. 

Ann tilted her head. "Yes. The first day we met he made me spaghetti ala-" She paused. 

"Yes?" Bodie prompted. 

Ann looked over at Doyle as if to see if he was listening. Doyle reacted instantly, his head turning towards his girl. She stared back while she answered Bodie. "I forget what he called it but it was delicious. Then we went dancing." 

Doyle threw Ann a loving smile. "Ann's a fabulous dancer." 

Bodie watched their exchange. It seemed perfectly normal. He put a hand on her shoulder, wishing he could touch her skin instead. He was curious what sort of reaction he would have. "Shall we sit down?" he asked. Nothing happened untoward when he gave a gentle squeeze. 

Ann twisted slightly, removing herself from under Bodie's touch with grace. No one but Bodie would realise she was avoiding being touched. "Of course," she said, showing perfect amazingly white teeth. 

Bodie stared at her mouth but he didn't see fangs. He snorted at his idiocy. He coughed to cover up the odd noise he'd made. "May I?" Bodie said. He started to pull out Ann's chair. Doyle pushed him aside. Bodie let out a surprised grunt when his elbow hit Bodie's ribs. "Oi!" he protested. He was startled by the look of menace in Doyle's narrowed eyes. It flashed so quickly that by the time Bodie blinked once and looked at Doyle again, the defiant look was gone. Bodie wondered if he had truly seen what he thought he'd seen. 

Instantly, Doyle flashed Bodie a grin. "Sorry, mate. This is my date so I'd best act the gentleman." 

Bodie didn't move. He could only watch, speechless, as Doyle pulled out Ann's chair and deferentially waited until she sat. 

"My love," Doyle said quietly. 

Bodie shook his head to clear it. If he didn't know better, he'd believe that Doyle had elbowed him out of the way because he was worried about Bodie being too close to his woman. Now Doyle was staring down at Ann with a rapt expression on his face, looking totally besotted. Bodie shook his head, gritted his teeth and took a seat beside Ann. Doyle sat on her other side and watched Bodie with a feral look. Bodie was sure if he happened to accidentally brush Ann's arm, Doyle would come over the table and smash his face in. Bodie hid his consternation behind a mask of pleasant manners. He was good at playing the part and tonight he knew he had better be careful. As the moments passed, Bodie was becoming more unsettled. 

Doyle was back in control of himself when he gave Bodie an amused glance. He lifted the lid off the serving casserole, revealing a steamy dish of what smelled like beef stew. The fluffy dumplings dotting its surface looked delicious. 

"Here you are, mate," Doyle said brightly. "Get your laughing gear around that." 

"Ummm," Bodie said, sniffing deeply. "Looks good. Ann, is your father still alive?" 

Ann looked at him with a puzzled expression. "I think so. Nobody's told me otherwise." 

Bodie watched her carefully, keeping his tone light. "What's he do?" 

"Some sort of development." Ann shrugged, appearing to be bored. "Real estate, property, I expect." 

"Ah," Bodie responded non-committally. "May I?" he asked, lifting the serving ladle. Ann nodded. He spooned a helping of food into her bowl. "There you are." 

"Thank you," Ann said. 

"Thank you," Bodie said at the same time. 

They both laughed. Bodie took a moment to glance over at Doyle. His partner looked angry. Bodie had garnered Ann's attention for a few moments and Doyle was seething with jealousy. Bodie took careful note during dinner, picking up on Doyle's physical movements and his more subtle body language. Doyle seemed restless, out of sorts. Bodie would have liked to think it was because of Benny's death but Doyle had completely forgotten about his friend. Ann was the centre of his world now. 

Bodie leaned towards Ann until he was close to touching her. "You've the most gorgeous eyes." 

Ann batted her eyelashes. "Thank you, Bodie. I was born with them." 

Bodie laughed deeply, looking surreptitiously at Doyle. He was definitely not pleased. Bodie smiled at her, meeting her eyes. He hadn't been lying when he'd complimented her on them. They were a startling green colour, clear and bright. He could feel himself being drawn into her magnetism once again. 

"Bodie. Bodie!" 

Something hit his arm. He started, glaring over the table at Doyle before he glanced down. Doyle had smacked him on the arm with the serving ladle and there now was a large gravy spot splattered on his shirt sleeve. 

"Ray," Bodie grumbled. "Christ, you're a horse's arse." 

Doyle was glassy-eyed, his mouth open. His eyes were unfocused and he had beads of sweat on his forehead. Bodie looked from Doyle to Ann. She was making a point not to look at Doyle. Odd, that. Bodie's underhanded experiment to monopolise Ann's attentions to gauge Doyle's reaction had drawn results. Doyle was having none of it. 

Bodie stood up and scowled. He stomped out of the dining area, across the lounge and into the bathroom to scrub at the stain. Doyle was over the top concerning this bird. He plainly wouldn't tolerate Bodie paying her any attention at all. He glared at his own reflection in the mirror. 

"His hand was shaking. Fuck," he muttered. "I know she's got him. I know it." 

Bodie grimaced at the cold wet spot on his sleeve. He dabbed at it with a towel and went over Doyle's actions during dinner. He noticed that Doyle had tried to touch Ann's hand several times but she was careful that he didn't make contact. She did it smoothly, with which seemed like the result of long practice. He had one final test to perform. He decided to touch her, to see what his own reaction would be. Bodie understood that he hadn't been around Ann long enough to come under any sort of spell, but making contact with her skin should arouse him. 

Back in the lounge, Ann was sitting on the sofa. Bodie poured himself a drink while Doyle did the washing up. 

"Ann?" he asked, holding up the glass in invitation. 

"No, thank you." 

Bodie sat beside her. "Don't like to get your pretty hands wrinkled with hot water, eh?" 

Ann laughed lightly. Her nails were tipped with shiny red lacquer. "I had a manicure today. No sense wasting my hard earned money with hot water." 

Bodie jerked at the sound of dishes crashing to the floor. "Ray, you okay?" he called, deliberately not going to check. Doyle was having a tantrum. Bodie smiled into his glass. Let him stew while he entertained the fair lass. 

Ann didn't react at all to Doyle's obvious ploy at distraction either. 

"Bodie, could use a hand here," Doyle called out, his tone barely this side of whining. 

Bodie hid his smirk and stayed put. "He's a prat sometimes but he's a good partner." 

Ann smiled but her eyes were cold. She studied Bodie for a moment before she leaned towards him. She held his gaze, blinked slowly, deliberately, and put a hand on his knee. 

"There's an old saying. Possession is nine tenths of the law," she said softly. There was enough menace in her voice to scare an entire brigade of soldiers. Her startlingly white teeth flashed and her nails dug into the cloth of his trousers. 

Bodie lifted his glass and sipped, making sure his outward appearance didn't waver from the pleasant one he'd adopted for the evening. He couldn't let her know how much he wanted to move away from her. He added puzzlement to his tone. "Eh?" 

"Don't play coy with me, Mr Bodie," Ann said. "Ray and I will be married soon and he'll be leaving you and CI5 behind. Get in my way and I'll make sure you never see him again." 

Bodie should have kept his cool but his fear spiked. "You'd hurt him? Kill him?" 

Ann didn't answer. She kept her eyes latched onto his. Bodie began to sweat, his heart thumping wildly. This close to Ann was intoxicating enough. If she were to touch him... 

Bodie laid his hand over hers. The second they made contact, his entire body buzzed with electric energy. Arousal followed quickly. She wrenched her hand away from his. 

Bodie hurried to his feet. She looked up at him, innocently batting her lashes, a pout on her lips. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bodie said evenly, pushing down the lust that coursed through him. He ignored his hard on. Ann gave him an amused glance, conveying full well that she'd seen his reaction to her touch. While he hoped his face was a mask of indifference, his insides certainly weren't. His bowels clenched and his breathing hitched. His cock pressed against his flies and he ached to rub at it. 

Bodie had not paid attention to Doyle while he and Ann had been sparring. He blinked, and Doyle was beside him, a snarl on his lips and with clenched fists. Doyle pushed Bodie aside and put out a hand towards Ann. 

Ann took Doyle's hand with a small sound of pain. Doyle pulled her close and protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

"What did you do to her?" Doyle demanded, daring Bodie to move a muscle. "Ann, sweetheart," he said soothingly, "did he say something nasty to you?" 

Bodie was gobsmacked at the speed with which Doyle went from a menacing beast to a protective warrior. Bodie took a step back, unable to look away. Doyle's entire body stiffened momentarily before he relaxed, tucking Ann under his chin. He had a look of intense pleasure on his face and his breathing came out in small, quick bursts. Bodie was sure if he took Doyle's pulse at that moment, it would be racing. Bodie also had no doubt that if he could see the front of Doyle's trousers, he'd see a stiff cock outlined behind the worn denim. 

Bodie finally looked away, embarrassed that he was sporting the same physical condition. Ann Holly had the ability to mesmerise. She was a succubus. 

Ann cast a malevolent glance at Bodie, and he clearly understood what she was conveying. She'd drawn a line in the sand, and that line was Raymond Doyle. She was staking her claim and Bodie would risk his life if he interfered. Much to his own astonishment, Bodie was the one to look away first. 

"Bodie, it's getting late," Doyle said. "Pick me up at eight for work." 

Dismissed like an errant school boy, Bodie wanted to tell Doyle to sod off. He wanted to pull Ann away from him and hurt her. 

The air crackled with tension. Ann's next glare was something Bodie wished he'd never seen. Her eyes turned black as night. Her lip curled up. Hatred poured from her, the likes of which Bodie had never seen. She was ugly and twisted, a thing of horror. Bodie took an involuntary step back, feeling as if someone had stuck a knife in his heart and was cutting it out a piece at a time. Terror raced down his spine. His heart thudded wildly and his animal instinct to run from a predator hit him hard. 

"I'm- I-" Bodie couldn't pull his eyes away from Ann's. He gasped, unable to speak. Ann looked away, releasing Bodie from her hold. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out noisily. He had to order his feet to move, and he understood what a deer in the headlamps felt like, terrified at the oncoming lorry but too frightened to save itself. 

Bodie cleared his throat. Then he cleared it again. He hurried towards the door, not daring to look back at the couple as they embraced. 

"I'm off," Bodie called out. He turned the handle, fumbling with it before it finally opened. Without another word, Bodie made his escape. 

\--------------------------

In the Capri's cool interior, Bodie was annoyed with himself. He cringed at his reactions to Ann. Away from her, he didn't appreciate that he could be affected so deeply by her presence. He should have been able to control himself. Maybe, his inner annoying voice taunted, _maybe even you can't control a bird who's not human_. Ann wasn't some girl he could bat his eyelashes at and sweet talk his way into her knickers. On one hand, he had the proof he needed that Ann was a vampire. On the other, his wounded pride told him he was being a berk and that no bit of skirt would get the best of him. 

"Jesus, you're an arse," Bodie said into the rear view mirror. He sighed and leaned back onto the headrest. Breathing in, holding it for a count of ten, breathing out, until he was calm and could think more clearly. 

Ann Holly was a vampire. She could obviously manipulate people's minds. She was evil. Even worse, Doyle was enthralled by her. He was besotted; taken against his will, and didn't have a clue it was happening. Bodie had a decision to make. He had two choices. He could take Doyle from her and kill her. He could put a bullet in Doyle's head and kill her. 

Option one seemed to be the best course of action. Being the hard man that he was, Bodie took note that if number two had to be done as a last resort, he wouldn't hesitate if it were the only thing that kept Doyle out of her clutches. Shocked at his own rationalisation that killing Doyle might be an option, Bodie pounded his fists against his thighs. He would never let Doyle be taken away by Ann Holly. 

"Never," he swore. "Never." 

Exhausted, Bodie put his head back and closed his eyes. 

He'd tell Cowley that Ann Holly was doing a runner and needed to be brought in. Cowley'd lock her up. No sooner had he thought the thought when an even more horrific idea hit him. What if they brought her in and she somehow mesmerised the other agents. Or exercised control over Cowley? She could do it and Bodie couldn't stop her. 

What a fucking mess. 

Bodie clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. He couldn't tell Cowley nor could he bring Ann into HQ. What he had to do was leave Ann alive until the obbo was finished. Then he could get her away from Doyle under some pretext and kill her. He'd have to believe that Doyle was strong enough to withstand full addiction for another few days. With a groan of frustration at his own decision, Bodie started the car and headed to HQ. 

The car park was empty of agents and mechanics at the moment. In the corner was the only van that wasn't being used: an ugly rusty red Vauxhall. He opened the back and used a torch to look around. There was listening equipment, a large reel to reel tape recorder, and other surveillance devices. He got in and started the engine. It turned over smoothly. While it idled, Bodie went into the back and sat on the low wheeled stool. He cranked on the equipment until the green dials glowed. The headphones sat on the small shelf, ready for use. Satisfied that all was at the ready, Bodie headed back to Doyle's flat. 

Bodie found a spot as far away as he could in case Doyle recognised the van. He turned off the engine and headlights, and got in position for his private op. He set the dials to coincide with the bugs he'd planted in Doyle's flat and put on the headphones. He deliberately ignored the tape recorder. It was of the utmost importance that nobody hear anything that might transpire in Doyle's life between he and Ann Holly. Doyle was in enough danger without Holly discovering the surveillance. Plus the idea that Cowley and the other agents would know about Doyle being enthralled by a vampire was something Bodie would prevent with every fibre of his being. It wasn't Doyle's fault but it would ruin his career. Worse, if Ann discovered that her secret had been divulged, it could get a lot of people killed. 

With an inelegant snort, Bodie understood that Doyle would not be happy discovering he'd been duped, even if it was against his will. Stroppy as he was, Doyle had a side he kept hidden. He was more sensitive than he let anybody see. Bodie was the only one who was close enough to Doyle to have seen how easily he took things to heart. He hid that part of himself and carried on, becoming one of the top agents in all of Great Britain. Second only to Bodie, of course. Bodie shook his head at his own overblown sense of worth. He was good. He knew that. And so was Doyle. But together, they were amazing, both on the streets and in private. Bodie wanted Doyle back in both of those capacities and he'd kill anybody (or anything) who tried to interfere. 

Bodie turned several of the knobs until he heard Doyle's voice. He adjusted another red dial and two black ones until the quality of the sound was as good as it would get. He tensed, listening intently. Bodie's head pounded. Blowing out a breath, he made himself relax and pay attention. 

_"Make a fresh cuppa for you, sweetheart?"_ Doyle asked. 

Ann answered. 

_"Anything you need?"_ Doyle offered. 

The equipment was sensitive enough to pick up the sound of light footsteps crossing the bedroom. Ann had moved from the hardwood floor onto the carpet. 

_"Come here,"_ Ann said. 

Bodie recognised Doyle's footsteps as he crossed the room. 

_"Yes, darling."_

_"I'm so hungry and you look good enough to eat,"_ Ann said. 

Bodie scratched his nose. Ann had refused Doyle's offer moments ago yet she was now saying she was hungry. Bodie thought back to dinner. Ann had played with the food. Mashed it up. Pushed it around. Nibbled but now that he thought about it, she hadn't eaten much at all. 

"Don't read more into it than it is, old son," Bodie chided. Maybe telling Doyle she was hungry meant for him, for his body. Then again, maybe she meant it literally. Bodie's hand froze on the dial. If she attacked him, could Bodie get out of the van, run down the road and get to Doyle before she killed him? A chill settled on Bodie. He was terrified that he'd be forced to listen to Doyle's death. His hand shook as he adjusted the knob. 

Concentrating, Bodie wished with all his might that he had video surveillance. Audio only gave his brain far too much room to imagine all the horrible, awful things that Ann could do to his best mate. 

_"Ann, you're so beautiful!"_ Doyle said. 

Ann let out a musical laugh. _"Silly boy. Of course I am."_

Doyle laughed along with her. There were indecipherable sounds, possibly clothing being removed, bed linens being rearranged, and then Doyle's mattress springs creaked. Bodie recognised the sound immediately. He held himself stiffly, closed his eyes and framed a picture of Doyle's bedroom in his mind. He'd spent enough time in it so the scene came easily. It was not an overly large room but it was cosy, with cabbage rose wallpaper and a working fireplace that was rarely lit. A bureau and a chest of drawers on one wall; a wood wardrobe on another. A large metal framed bed dominated the room, flanked by small glass topped tables with boudoir lamps on them. Books were always piled beside the bed, along with a water carafe and a glass. There might be a tea cup or a plate from Doyle's last snack. 

The mattress springs creaked again. Bodie shifted with irritation. He should be the one in Doyle's bed, not Ann Holly. He hated her with a deep and abiding passion. 

_"Ann!"_ Doyle cried out. _"Please, please. Ann-love, Ann. Oh God."_

_"Ray,"_ Ann said firmly. Bodie could hear no warmth, and certainly no love in her voice. _"Lie still. Do as I say."_ Not even lust, he realised. 

_"Oh!"_ Doyle cried. _"Ahhh. More, please, moremore. Love!"_

Bodie's heart raced; his pulse quickened. The sounds Doyle was making were the same ones that he'd made when Bodie had been in bed with him. Bodie dug his fingernails into his palm. "Bloody stupid bitch," he growled. 

_"Stop moving,"_ Ann ordered. Her voice had a hard edge to it. _"Pay attention. That's it. Turn this way. That's what I need."_

Bodie heard no words of love from Ann. He heard only orders. Maybe Ann was one of those new liberated women. She liked being in charge, giving the commands. Bodie didn't mind a woman being on top so he couldn't fault Doyle for letting Ann take over. 

Suddenly, Doyle let out a wail that made Bodie's blood run cold. It was a reedy sound, not at all pleasant. He stood up so quickly that the stool went flying backwards and thudded against the side of the van. Bodie clamped his hands on the headphones as if it helped him to hear better. Doyle let out another blood chilling cry before the sound was abruptly cut off. Bodie pulled off the headphones and started for the rear door, gun already in hand. Reason intruded. He couldn't burst into Doyle's bedroom. What if Ann had a thing about... bondage and she'd gagged him. Was it his place to interfere? He tried to reason with himself but his heart told him to run to Doyle, to save him from that witch's clutches. 

He was part way out of the van when he forced himself to stop. He was a professional. He had a job to do. Doyle was a grown man. He could handle rough sex with a sodding vampire. Bodie began to chuckle when he realised how ridiculous that sounded. Still, Doyle had been seeing Ann for over a week now and she had had ample opportunity to kill him. That wasn't part of her plans. Doyle emerged from his "dates" happy and healthy apart from the pale complexion. Don't forget about his hands, Bodie thought. Pale skin and shaking hands were no reason to blow an important obbo. 

Slowly he closed the van's door and retrieved his stool. He holstered his weapon and sat down. Headphones back on, Bodie could hear Doyle's muffled voice, begging. Bloody fucking begging. Bodie cringed yet he stayed in his place. It sounded as if Doyle was gagged. 

Again, Bodie wished for the unattainable: video footage. 

_"My pet,"_ Ann said. 

Doyle whimpered constantly, the sound grating on Bodie's nerves. _"mmmmm."_

_"You're such a pretty creature,"_ Ann said. _"Pretty and delicious."_

The next sound Bodie heard was a muffled scream. He pounded his fist on the shelf, denting the metal. He couldn't stand another minute of this. 

_"Precious pet,"_ Ann said soothingly. 

Then Bodie heard deep sobs. Doyle was crying? The next sound Bodie heard was one he instantly recognised: Doyle having an orgasm. Bodie's cock jerked in his pants and hardened. He closed his eyes, angry at himself for responding to Doyle's cries of pleasure. He was in a rage at Ann for what she was doing to his best friend, his lover. Ex-lover. There was about thirty seconds of silence before anybody spoke. 

_"Sleep, pet. Sleep,"_ Ann cajoled. _"Good boy."_

"Fucking bitch," Bodie growled. 

Doyle's sobs quieted. The room was silent. Bodie focused his concentration entirely on his hearing but there were no other sounds. After about ten minutes, Bodie was about to give up for the night, figuring the happy couple was fast asleep in each other's tender loving care when he heard a car door slam shut. He cautiously looked out the windscreen. A silver Suzuki SC100 drove by with Ann behind the wheel. 

Bodie sat down. Ann wasn't spending the night wrapped in her lover's arms. Not that odd. She probably had to go to work in the morning. But upon reflection, Bodie knew he hadn't heard a single sound of satisfaction from Ann. All the noises had been from Doyle. It was obvious that Ann was controlling the sex. Maybe she'd given Doyle oral sex. Maybe she was silent when she came. Maybe she'd put a spell on Doyle and had drunk his blood. Maybe Doyle was dead. 

No, he wasn't dead. Bodie had heard Doyle's sobs and had heard Ann consoling him. She made an effort to be sympathetic. Probably because she liked how he tasted. Bodie grimaced. He had to be sure Doyle was all right. Bodie got out of the van and after assuring himself that the neighbourhood was quiet, he went to Doyle's building. He checked around to be sure he wasn't being observed before he picked the lock. Once inside, Bodie used the stairs. He held his breath when a door opened down the corridor, then closed. No one passed by. He got to Doyle's and using his own key, he slipped inside. Bodie reset the alarm before it could alert HQ. 

The flat was dark. He navigated the space cautiously and made his way up the stairs to Doyle's bedroom. The door was ajar. Bodie peered in. Doyle's bedside lamp was on, casting a warm glow across the slim form covered with a sheet. Bodie could see Doyle's rhythmic breathing. He released the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and tiptoed in. If he woke Doyle, he'd get a right bollocking from his annoyed partner. Carefully, he lifted the sheet. From what he could see, Doyle was not hurt. His skin was unmarked but for the few scars he'd already had. His sleep seemed deep and his face looked relaxed. Bodie would normally have believed that Doyle's bird had shagged him into a stupor but from the sounds Bodie had heard, there hadn't been any coupling. With Bodie's knowledge garnered from Keller, it made sense. Ann was using him as a food source. Bodie looked Doyle over once again. He couldn't see any place where Ann's fangs could have punctured Doyle's skin. While Bodie studied his partner, Doyle never moved a muscle. Bodie was surprised since Doyle was generally a light sleeper, easily roused by the slightest noise. He longed to crawl into bed and wrap him in his arms. Protect him. Bodie shook his head at his own sentimentality. One final glance and Bodie let the sheet fall back softly. He exited Doyle's flat, being sure to set the locks. 

Back in the van, Bodie contemplated staying in case Ann returned. He sat staring out the window for about thirty minutes before he decided to leave. She wasn't likely to return tonight. She'd got what she wanted. He got back to his own flat. It wasn't terribly late but he was bone weary. His anxiety about Doyle was mounting by the moment, and he had a plan to follow no matter what. 

Timing would be imperative. The drugs smugglers had to be stopped. Ann Holly had to be killed. Doyle had to be saved. Bodie flexed his hands, aching for the feel of a machete in it. He could easily conjure up the image of Ann Holly's head flying off her shoulders, blood spurting in red geysers. Bodie grinned coldly at the thought. 

Not wanting to climb into his lonely bed, Bodie made himself a coffee instead. He sat with the steaming brew in front of the telly. Black and white images danced across the small screen. Bela Lugosi strode theatrically through a shadowy mansion, his black cloak swirling around his legs. His hair was slicked back and his face was white as a sheet. Dracula found a victim quite easily. The woman was soon under his spell and it wasn't long before he was making a meal of her. Bodie shivered at the screams and at Dracula's awful accent saying, _"I never drink...wine."_ and _"To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious!"_

When he'd had enough of The Count, Renfield and Van Helsing, he turned off the television. Nightly ablutions finished, he got into bed and lay with his hands behind his head. He couldn't keep his mind off the problem at hand. Bodie never thought he'd see Doyle be as subservient as he'd been with Ann. Doyle treated his birds properly but this version of his partner was losing himself, falling under her control with each passing minute. 

Bodie's brain was running full tilt now and the concern about and for Doyle made his body scream for action. Sleep was a long time in coming. He woke groggily at seven am when the alarm blared. Bodie was on automatic pilot, showering, dressing, eating toast, drinking tea. Somehow he managed to get to Doyle's on time. 

"Extraordinary prowess at life in general," Bodie mused, calling Doyle to announce his arrival on the r/t. 

Doyle came out a few minutes later, looking chipper, with a smile on his face. Bodie admired him as he approached. His hair was freshly shampooed and he was dressed casually like always, jeans, t-shirt and the worn brown leather jacket that Bodie liked. Bodie's mouth watered. What he wouldn't give to have Doyle back in his bed. Bodie tamped down his irritation at what he was missing and plastered on a pleasant look that he didn't feel. Best keep on Doyle's good side. 

"Morning," Doyle said, tossing Bodie a grin. "Beautiful day." 

"It's going to rain," Bodie said, forcing a smile. "Best move it. Cowley'll be pacing the floor." 

"Cowley's a pain in the arse," Doyle said conversationally. "Enjoy dinner last night?" 

"Yeah. Thanks. Good food and good company," Bodie said as he pulled out into the stream of traffic. He shifted from second to third before he glanced sideways at Doyle. "You look like the cat who got the cream and who's been shagged senseless." 

Doyle chuckled and stretched, pushing his chest upward. Bodie saw his taut nipple outlined under the thin material and he swallowed around the sudden rush of arousal that hit him. Jesus, did Doyle have to be such a sexy bastard? 

"She puts out, eh?" Bodie said. 

"That's a crude way to put it," Doyle snapped before he gave a dirty laugh. "Yeah, she does. She makes love like an angel." 

Bodie stopped for a red signal. He turned to look at Doyle, carefully studying him. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Doyle looked content and relaxed. What had Ann done to him? Had she drank his blood or merely given him an orgasm? 

"She makes you happy, then," he stated flatly. If Bodie had to find fault in his appearance, it was that he was paler than usual and the fingers in his left hand drummed constantly on his knee. Bodie kept glancing over at Doyle at every opportunity. 

"Bodie. Bodie!" 

"What!" 

"Green light." 

"Oh, sorry. Daydreaming. Didn't get much sleep last night," Bodie admitted. 

"Did you catch some bird after you left my place then?" Doyle asked, amused. 

"No, I didn't catch some bird," Bodie said indignantly. "I had caffeine too late, that's all." 

Doyle shrugged and leaned back in his seat. He radiated contentment yet Bodie knew his partner was in extreme danger. He vowed to stick with him like glue and keep him away from that bitch as much as possible. 

\-------------------------

As the hours passed, Bodie grew more uncomfortable. He'd already failed in his desire to keep Doyle beside him until this obbo was over, thanks to Cowley, and being separated from his partner sent his warning bells clanging so loudly that he had a roaring headache. 

Doyle was flitting around London by himself at this moment. Despite Bodie's protests, he'd been sent in the opposite direction by the old man. Bodie grumbled constantly on his mad race to Charles Holly's village. The trip back to London was a wild dash through the countryside. The vicar had nothing but nice things to say about Mr Holly. A stop at Holly's house yielded nothing useful from the cocky butler. The only small measure of success Bodie'd had was that he'd planted the camera in the shrubbery near Holly's house. He could only hope the film would reveal something of importance, such as proof that Little Miss I Don't Have a Clue Holly was involved in her father's nefarious dealings. Bodie chuckled coldly, imagining how much fun it would be to watch Cowley toss her skinny bottom in the gaol. Bodie would make sure she disappeared. Then he and Doyle could get back to their lives and Ann Holly would soon be nothing but a distant bad memory for both of them. 

Once back in Town, Bodie headed straight to Doyle's flat. The streets were crowded and he couldn't find a space to park (again!). Annoyed, he parked illegally and hurried over to lay on Doyle's buzzer. The door snicked and Bodie's worry turned to fury. The stupid git hadn't bothered to see who'd rung before opening the door. 

"One of these days, Doyle," Bodie said from between clenched teeth as he took the stairs two at a time. "One of these days you're in for a big surprise when you get blasted to smithereens when you forget simple security." 

Bodie forced himself to stop when he reached Doyle's flat. He took in a deep breath, huffed it out and tried to calm his racing heart. He knew how defensive Doyle would be if he barged in, breathing fire about the locks. He needed to be careful, gather information per Cowley's orders, and ascertain Doyle's present condition. Security was important against normal terrorists and madmen. Against a vampire, it was worthless. All Ann need to do is ask Doyle to let her in and he'd fall over himself to acquiesce to her requests. 

When the door opened easily, Bodie paused, gritting his teeth. He wanted to barge in, rail against Doyle about danger and safety. Instead, he cursed Cowley for putting him in the position of having to interrogate his partner and plastered a smile on his face. 

"Come on in, darling, the door's open," Doyle called out. 

Bodie peered around the edge of the door. "Anything you say, sweetheart," he said in a horrible falsetto voice. 

Doyle turned and burst out laughing. Bodie wished with all his heart that Doyle's happiness was because he'd arrived. If wishes here horses... Keeping up appearances, Bodie joined Doyle in the kitchen area, his tone teasing. "All right, mate?" 

Doyle snickered. "Yeah, I thought you were Ann. She's coming to dinner." He returned to stir something cooking on the stove. 

Bodie sniffed appreciatively. Delicious smells tickled his nose: curry and pork. His stomach rumbled. "Oh. What's all this, then?" he asked, looking interested. 

Doyle's brow wrinkled. "What?" 

Bodie studied him when he turned. While he seemed happy, Bodie would have sworn he'd lost more weight in the past few days. Outwardly he looked good. His hair was shining and his eyes were clear. The muscles in Doyle's arms rippled as he performed his culinary tasks. He had a lot of power in that slim body. Raymond Doyle was the picture of health. Bodie wasn't fooled. His face was far too pale and his hands had that annoying tremor that Bodie hated seeing. 

Keeping his conversation light, Bodie ate a piece of cooked pork from the chopping board. "You doing all the cooking, now?" 

"Yeah, I am." 

"Ummm." He took another taste. 

Doyle leaned closer. "I'll let you into a secret, actually: she can't cook." 

Bodie feigned shock. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." 

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's the only fault I can find in her, though. Yeah, how you been? The lads said you were on a special assignment." 

Bodie had a momentary stab of panic. Maybe Doyle knew Cowley had set him onto him and Ann. If he lied, Doyle would have a meltdown. But Doyle had been distracted recently so he played the odds and shrugged. "Ah, it's just routine." 

"Yeah?" 

Bodie didn't hear much interest in Doyle's tone, thank God. He congratulated himself on his expertise in reading his partner. "Check-up job." 

"Anybody I know?" Doyle asked. 

"No. Don't think so." Bodie made a stab at diverting Doyle's attention. "It's good, this, isn't it?" He wasn't sure if he was asking about the food or about Doyle's relationship with Ann. He patted himself internally when his ploy proved successful. 

"Yeah, it's great. Do you want to stay to dinner? Say no," Doyle said, crossing his arms. 

It took all of Bodie's willpower not to look down. The way Doyle stood with his body leaning back, hips thrust forward, Bodie knew what he'd see: Doyle's cock outlined behind well worn denim. His heart rate kicked up and his face heated. God, he wanted to stay. He wanted to eat with Doyle and shag Doyle. He wanted Doyle in his life every day and every night. 

Reason intruded. He couldn't stay. He had to keep away from Ann Holly lest she somehow worm her way into his brain. He couldn't let himself be distracted or overtaken. He had to leave, for now. 

"Wouldn't if I could, mate. I'm not a gooseberry, you know." The idea of seeing Doyle and Ann together made Bodie's stomach switch from hunger to nausea. 

"Fine." 

Bodie took one final chance before he left. Keeping his tone bored, he said, "You know, I was thinking. Between her and her dad, it's a bit strange, not keeping in touch, isn't it? You'd think a wealthy man would want to look after his daughter." 

Doyle's eyes narrowed. "How do you know he's wealthy?" 

_Uh oh. Too much._ He tap danced quickly. "Um, property, development: sounds like money to me, mate. So, she's not bitter about him, then?" Bodie was relieved to see Doyle relax and shrug one shoulder. 

"Never mentions him." 

_Enough. Leave. Go. Now._ He ignored his own good advice and went for the gold. "It is serious between you two, isn't it? I mean, deadly serious?"

Doyle's eyes took on a dreamy quality. "Beautifully serious." Bodie was congratulating himself on his interrogation skills when Doyle asked, "What do you want?" 

Bodie's guts twisted. Doyle had sussed him out. After all, between the two of them, Doyle was the better interrogator, even if Bodie would never admit that to Doyle. 

Bodie squared his shoulders and relied on his usual wit. "I missed you. Every time I see that ugly face, it makes me feel so incredibly handsome." He beat a fast retreat before his luck ran out. "See you, mate. Have a nice time! Bon appetit." He opened the door. "Give my love to Ann." 

Doyle called back, "I will," as Bodie shut the door. 

In the corridor, Bodie leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He wanted to scream with frustration. The elevator began to ascend. Bodie hurried to the stairs. The last person he wanted to see was Ann Holly. He pulled his gun and clenched it tightly. He had the deepest desire to take her out then and there. Reason intruded. He couldn't kill her with a normal bullet. He had nothing else to use for a weapon. _Be sensible. There's the op to consider. Kilos of drugs to intercept. Doyle made to see that Ann was dangerous._

Bodie holstered his weapon and peered up between the railing. He heard the elevator doors open and he saw legs from the knees down walk towards Doyle's flat. The feet stopped, turned towards the stairs. Bodie held his breath, his heart rate escalating rapidly. He wrapped his hand around the butt of his gun. It might not kill her but it would slow her down so that he could get away. 

Finally, Ann turned back and knocked lightly. Bodie heard Doyle's voice in greeting. He took a chance and stepped up so that he could see them. 

Doyle held out his arms. Ann went into them willingly. He moved backwards, shutting the door. Shutting Bodie out. Bodie forced himself to walk away. 

Bodie told himself that the reason he pulled his jacket tightly around himself was because of the cool air. That wasn't the truth by a long chalk. The idea of Doyle being alone with Ann Holly, queen vampire, was the reason that chills raced up and down his body. He'd failed. He hadn't been able to keep Doyle away from Ann. 

With a dejected sigh, Bodie slowly got into the Capri and drove towards HQ. The least he could do was listen in, be sure Doyle was still alive at the end of the evening. He had to be close by just in case. If he had to, he'd put a bullet into Ann to slow her down and whisk Doyle away. 

Bodie relished the image of Ann Holly lying on Doyle's floor, blood seeping from a hole in her head. In his mind's eye the bullet hadn't killed her yet she was unable to move. Her eyes were open, filled with terror when Bodie dumped an entire bottle of lighter fluid on her. He lit a match and dropped it. Flames rose, licking the ceiling. Ann burned delightfully, her screams of abject pain and pure terror echoing through the flat. Bodie grinned as she burned to cinders. His happy thoughts were interrupted by his r/t. 

"3.7." Bodie responded. 

"Cowley. I need you here." 

Bodie let out a quiet curse. He had plans. "Sir-" 

"That's an order, Bodie." Cowley's tone was commanding. 

With an annoyed sigh, Bodie snapped, "Roger. 3.7 out." He tossed the r/t onto the passenger seat and screeched away from the kerb. 

Thirty minutes later found him in Cowley's office. It was his usual serviceable room, with a large wooden desk that held things he used most: pens, paper, telephone, an old fashioned inkwell, a large blotter/calendar with many notes on it. Ugly grey filing cabinets dominated one corner. Bodie sat opposite Cowley. Behind him was a table holding a computer, more files, several lamps, and over the table maps were tacked to the walls. 

Cowley allowed himself a tea and drinks station in the far corner. There was a hot plate and a dented kettle. Two mugs, one without a handle, along with another mug holding sugar, sat waiting to be used. Cowley didn't use milk so neither did any agents who deigned to drink tea when he offered. 

Bodie lounged in his chair, elbow on the desk, chin resting on his fingers. He watched Cowley jotting notes on a pad of paper. He'd already filled two pages, and Bodie tamped down the urge to ask what he could possibly be writing down. 

"Come on, sir. There's nothing here. Doubt this new batch will show anything either. Let's hit the pub for a drink. My treat." Bodie would do anything to get out of the stuffy room and to stretch his legs. 

The door opened and Kirstie entered, gingerly holding yet another stack of photographs. Bodie wanted to scream or cry or run away from home. He muttered appreciatively at the image of him ripping the photos into little bits and running off down the corridor, laughing manically, leaving a trail of paper. Cowley scowled at him. He waggled his head, grinning. 

Bodie looked at some of the photographs, remarking on his skills with the camera. 

Cowley pursed his lips. "Just keep on looking, Bodie," Cowley ordered, passing him several more photographs.

Bodie picked up a stack. One corner stuck to his skin and he grimaced at his ink-smeared thumb. As much as he wanted to rail against the desk work, he kept his cool only because Cowley would probably shoot him in the foot if he blew up once more. Bodie studied each photo briefly. 

"I knew he was okay when I talked to that vicar, you know. Never underestimate vicars, they know what they're talking-" 

Bodie's words dried up instantly. The last photograph grabbed his attention. He moved his nose closer and studied the figures of two men who stood in the drive of the large house. 

"I've seen this guy before." 

Cowley grabbed the photograph out from under Bodie's nose. He looked through a magnifying glass. "Are you sure?" 

"Definitely. He was getting into a flash American car outside Benny's building," Bodie explained. 

"Benny, the dead man. Doyle's grass."

"Right. And now here he is at Holly's. Coincidence, I'm sure," Bodie said flippantly. 

"I don't believe in coincidences, 3.7," Cowley stated firmly. 

Bodie chuckled. Cowley picked up the phone and dialled. Bodie took a photograph and studied it until Cowley's conversation caught his attention. 

"Doyle," Cowley said. "Report in immediately. Yes... Miss Holly will understand. I'm sure you've explained that the nature of your occupation demands that you be on call- You are on call when I say you're on call, 4.5. I expect you in thirty minutes." Cowley hung up and returned to the photos. He went through them twice before he sat back, glasses held by the stem, and looked thoughtful. "Bodie, I believe you were correct." 

"Eh?" Bodie looked up from his own (third) inspection of the photographs. 

"4.5 seems to be hearing something relating to Miss Holly. It could be the wedding bells you spoke of." 

"Christ." 

"Language, 3.7.," Cowley admonished. 

Bodie glowered. "He's not going to be happy, sir, if you try to link up the daughter with the father." 

"No, he's not," Cowley agreed. He put the end of the arm of his glasses into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I expect he's going to be quite angry at me, and even more so at you for what he will perceive as a betrayal. You investigating Holly is one thing, but looking into his girl's background is going to fuel a fire storm from your partner." 

"Super," Bodie muttered, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 

"You were following orders, Bodie." 

"I know that, sir," Bodie snapped, "but that doesn't make it sit any better!" 

Bodie shut his trap and sat fuming until the door opened and Doyle walked in. Bodie tensed, wondering what sort of storm hovered around his partner. Surprisingly, he was relaxed, curious at the summons. Bodie bowed his head and waited. 

"Hallo," Doyle said. 

Bodie could feel Doyle's eyes on him. He hadn't realised what a coward he truly was, but try as he might, he couldn't look up, couldn't meet Doyle's gaze. 

When no one returned Doyle's greeting, he asked, "Well?" 

Cowley didn't respond immediately. The tension in the air began to grow. Bodie hunkered down, playing with a pencil, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to see his partner's response to what Cowley had to say. Bad enough to hear it. 

"Shut the door," Cowley ordered. 

Doyle complied. 

"There's something that you need to know," Cowley continued. "Sit down." 

"I don't want to sit down," Doyle snapped. 

Bodie sighed. 

"Suit yourself." Cowley held out one of the photographs showing Holly's house and the two men standing there. 

"What's this?" Doyle said shortly. 

"I think you know what, or who it is. Bodie tells me-" 

"Bodie tells you!" Doyle shouted. "Christ! I'm not listening to any more of this!" 

Bodie could feel the heat of Doyle's gaze on the back of his neck. He stayed silent even when Doyle bent over him, fury radiating in waves from his body. "You. Checking up. Did you tail us? Eh? Did you bug my bedroom?" 

"He checked on her father, Charles Holly," Cowley said conversationally. 

"I don't want to know-" Doyle insisted. 

Bodie had to admire Cowley. The man kept his cool, spoke his piece in an even tone. He was willing to let Doyle burn off some of the fury that had grabbed him by the throat. 

"You've got to hear what he found," Cowley said. "You've got to assess it for yourself." 

Logic, Bodie reckoned, wasn't something Doyle was interested in at the moment but he had to give Cowley extra credit for giving a good try. Cowley slid another of the photographs across the desk. 

"Taken outside Holly's house," Bodie explained, his throat tight. 

"What's this? She hasn't seen her father for years," Doyle said.

Still being reasonable, Cowley asked, "How did you meet her?" 

Bodie cottoned on to Cowley's line of questioning. Make Doyle think. Make him reason it out for himself. Bodie knew better. Doyle wasn't in any condition to think. He was enthralled; he could only feel and every ounce of his being was directed towards Ann Holly. 

"You know damn well how I met her! We were chasing Conroy, and he went-- Ah, come on, that's ridiculous. He just ducked into the nearest cover. Bodie was with me. He saw Conroy scarper."

"Which just happened to be the block Ann Holly was living in. And he just happened to be on her floor." Cowley let the logical conclusion hang in the air. 

Doyle paused. Bodie could imagine the gears in his brain working, rebelling against its answer to Cowley's questioning. _Not Ann. Not my precious Ann._

"No," Doyle said firmly. 

Cowley barely paused. "Conroy links to Tony and Benny. You remember Benny?" Cowley's tone was accusatory and he played with Doyle's emotions like a maestro. In a normal situation, there would be no way Doyle could ignore the facts. 

This situation was not normal. 

"And this man," Cowley said, waving at one of the condemning photographs, "links them to her father. All tenuous links, nothing proven, I admit that, but would you leave it at that, Doyle? Would you?" 

"She doesn't know anything. She's not involved, sir. I know her." Doyle said, pleadingly. 

Bodie longed to agree with Doyle, wanted to reassure his best friend, his partner, that Ann Holly was not involved. That she had Doyle's best interests at heart. As much as he wished he could take away Doyle's pain, Bodie knew that this was only the beginning. There was more anguish ahead for Doyle, and for him. 

"You haven't answered my question. What would you do?" Cowley pressed. 

Bodie couldn't stand hearing the hurt in Doyle's voice. He had to end this interrogation so he tossed out the final piece of information that might force Doyle to think about things, to understand that Ann was guilty. Maybe then, together, they could work the case, stop the smugglers and Doyle could be convinced about exactly what Miss Ann Holly really was. 

"There's something else," Bodie said. The tension in his body made his head pound. He met Doyle's eyes. The pain on his face made him sick. "The Christmas man. Holly?" 

There was a sudden quiet chill in the air before Doyle went into meltdown. "No! No! You can believe what you like. I don't have to listen to it, I don't have to believe it. I'll resign!" 

"You can't," Cowley said with authority. "You can't, because you're already under suspension." 

"Since when?" Doyle demanded. 

Cowley's voice finally grew angry. "Since thirty seconds ago." 

"Okay," Doyle snapped. He turned and opened the door. 

Bodie would go after Doyle the second he could. He had to watch over him, be with him. Not that Doyle would let him, mind but he didn't care. He'd handcuff himself to his partner if need be. 

"Doyle," Cowley said. Doyle paused. "ID and armoury." 

Bodie winced when Doyle slammed the door. From the corner of his eye, he watched his partner stomp back to the desk. He threw his CI5 identification on the desk before he pulled his gun. The cold fury on Doyle's face made Bodie want to do something, anything to help his partner. He stayed quiet, letting the scene play out. He'd catch up with Doyle after this little episode and try to reason with him. 

Bodie had handcuffs in his car. 

Doyle pulled the clip from his weapon and threw it down. A bullet flew through the air when he ejected it from the gun. He slammed the empty gun in front of Cowley, all the while never saying a word. Every movement conveyed the rage that boiled inside. The air crackled with electricity. Doyle walked to the door and slammed it behind him. 

Bodie was out the door in moments. 

"Bodie!" 

He ignored Cowley and burst out the doors onto the roadway. Doyle was gone. 

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, raising a fist. He'd go after Doyle. 

Bodie raced back into the corridor. Cowley stood there, his eyes flashing annoyance. 

"Back in my office, 3.7." 

"But sir-" 

"That is not a request. Do you want to help Doyle or not?" 

Bodie sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Cowley had great insight into most situations, but this was something entirely different. Still, the soldier in him listened to his commanding officer. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Then you'll do as I say or I'll have you held in lock-up until this situation is resolved." 

Bodie glared, seething with rage. "It's not right," he ground out. 

"I didn't say it was." 

Cowley turned and walked back to his office. Bodie reluctantly followed. He had to do something so he was willing to hear what Cowley thought their next step should be. Bodie sat down, staring at the bullet that lay on the desk. Cowley picked it up and stacked the photos into a neat pile. He began to examine the photographs yet again, making more notes. The only sound in the room for many minutes was the scratching of Cowley's pen on paper. 

Bodie didn't need to review the photos again. The images were burned in his brain. He thought back over Doyle's tirade. He was furious that Doyle had resigned. Correction, that Cowley had suspended him. It left Doyle free to be with that bitch. What a fucking mess. 

Doyle's accusations wounded Bodie deeply. _"You. Checking up. Did you tail us? Eh? Did you bug my bedroom?"_ He had felt himself choking up when he'd heard the pain in his partner's voice. Why didn't Doyle understand that he was only following orders? Better him than one of the other agents, he reasoned. Bodie would have Doyle's best interests in mind. Stupid prat. Bodie was trying to help. He had to get Doyle far from Ann Holly before she destroyed him. 

Bodie hated feeling guilty about what he'd done. He chewed on his fingernail when he remembered something that stomped out that guilt. Cowley had set Doyle on him when everyone thought he'd assassinated the chief of the East German Secret Police. He'd been enraged when he'd discovered that Doyle had followed him. Even after he'd heard the taped interview between Marikka and Doyle, Bodie couldn't help but feel incredibly betrayed. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, Bodie wanted to be angry at Doyle. How could he when Doyle had been in the same position? His headache grew and in another minute he would embarrass himself by vomiting right on Cowley's sodding photographs. Wonder how that would go down. The image made Bodie snort with amusement. 

"3.7, do you have nothing to do?" Cowley snapped, his tone cold as ice. 

Bodie started, jerking his head up and squaring his shoulders. "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, I have something to do. I'll get right on it." He went to the door and studied Cowley's bent head. "Running away, sir," he muttered dryly, closing the door behind him. Sometimes he hated Cowley and CI5 and this bloody job. 

Sometimes he even hated himself. 

\----------------------------

Bodie was sick and tired of sitting in his car outside of Doyle's flat. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Bloody Doyle! What was he playing at, sneaking around in the shrubbery outside of Holly's house? What a moron. He'd blow this operation and then where would they be? 

Bodie knew exactly where they'd be: Doyle would be permanently enthralled by a queen vampire and he'd be screwed out of a partner. He could measure how much he'd miss Doyle in his life and in his bed. How much he could love Doyle. Did love Doyle. And then there was the destruction that kilos of drugs finding their ways onto the sweetly smelling streets of London and beyond would create. 

"Stop it! Don't think about it." 

Tired from the ups and downs of the obbo, Bodie had to order himself from the car and into Doyle's building. The familiar routine of pushing the buzzer and being admitted made him incredibly exhausted. He briefly wondered why Doyle kept letting him. He wouldn't have let himself in if he had a choice. 

Getting to Doyle's floor was a trial and confronting Doyle made him sweat. But confront his partner he would do, because he had to save his mate. Or he'd die trying. 

The door was ajar and Bodie slipped in. Doyle stood stock still in the middle of the lounge, his face cold as ice, a sneer on his lips. He was ready for battle. 

Bodie walked in, keeping his face passive. "Doyle-" 

Doyle held up his hand, cutting him off. "Don't start with me, Bodie, or you'll be sorry." 

Bodie narrowed his eyes. "Stay away from this investigation." 

Doyle sneered. "I'm a free agent. I'm a citizen." 

Bodie let out a disgusted sound. "On suspension or not, you're still with CI5. There's nothing free about that, mate. You get in our way.... Well, you just won't be allowed to get in our way, all right." Internally, he winced. Why had he suddenly put himself against Doyle? "Our" way? Christ, that was nasty, as if Doyle was the enemy. 

Doyle's eyes were cold and his voice even colder. "You'll see to that personally, will you?" 

Bodie bristled. He raised his voice. "You think I enjoyed doing what I did? Eh? Do you think I get a kick out of it? What're you supposed to be doing out there, anyway? What are you hoping to achieve?" 

Doyle threw out his hands. "I was nosing about!"

Scornfully Bodie said, "Ah, yes, Raymond Doyle, the one-man army super cop, going to solve everything where our resources failed, eh? Just get your brains back in your skull, mate, and stop leaving them where that bird's put 'em-" 

The fist that connected with Bodie's jaw hurt like the blazes. He fell back and rubbedt the spot. Opening and closing his mouth, he glanced up at Doyle in amusement. "That's better. Feel better, now, don't you? All right." Talking was painful. He didn't bother hiding the whine. Smugly he said, "Well, I suppose one has to make these sacrifices for a mate now and again." 

Doyle scowled. "She's not involved." 

"I know. You never bothered to ask me, though, did you. Listen, Ray, I like Ann, okay. I think she's too good for you, mind," Bodie said, lying through his teeth. He knew full well that only he was good enough. 

Doyle let out a huge sigh and he teared up. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," Bodie said, ignoring Doyle's emotional roller coaster. He knew the cause. "But do me a favour: start using your intelligence." 

It was amazing how quickly Doyle could go from contrite to annoyed. "And what's that supposed to mean?" 

Bodie knew he'd won this round because Doyle was listening, would maybe even use his head; the one above his belt line this time. "Well, Ann's under suspicion, and who's in the best position to ferret?" 

Doyle looked away. "That's lousy." 

"It's realistic."

"I can't!" Doyle insisted. 

Bodie used his best convincing tone. "Well, you'll have to, mate. Because, sooner or later, there's going to be a warrant. At least you're going to be kind. You're going to be trying to prove her innocent." 

Doyle was quiet for a full minute before he said softly, "Yeah, you're right. I'll prove her innocent, because she is." 

"Then prove it," Bodie said. That should set Doyle on the proper track to rifle Ann's flat. 

Doyle slumped down onto the sofa. He flexed his fist. The knuckles were turning bright red. Bodie rubbed his jaw again. He'd have bruises soon, seeing how easily his tender flesh coloured. He sat down and made himself wait patiently, giving Doyle time to digest the idea of spying on his girlfriend. 

"Doyle?" he finally asked. 

"Sorry," Doyle said again. 

"Told you already. No worries. Just... Will you do it?" Bodie asked. "Best if you do, rather than one of the other lads or even me. You know that." 

Doyle looked at Bodie, the fight leaching out of his body. He slowly nodded. "Yeah. You're right. Best I do it because I know she's not involved. I know she's damn near perfect." 

"Nobody's perfect, mate," Bodie said gently. 

"Ann is," Doyle insisted, his tone pleading, as if it were important that Bodie agreed. "Truly, Bodie, she is." 

"All right. All right. If you say so." Bodie would have done anything to be allowed to comfort his partner, to hold him, but this Doyle wouldn't allow it. _Soon,_ he pledged, _soon this would be over and he'd be welcomed back into Doyle's arms._

Bodie rose and began to pace. Doyle planted himself in front of Bodie. "What's going on? You're hiding something. Spill it or I'll bust you again." 

Bodie kept a watchful eye on Doyle's fist. He planned on avoiding it if he needed to. It was hard looking at Doyle, seeing distrust in his eyes. 

"You don't want to hear it," Bodie muttered. 

Doyle grabbed Bodie's jacket. "I'm fucking tired of your sodding jealousy! I'm with Ann now." 

"What I've learned... It's not good. You won't like it." Bodie stared directly at Doyle, daring him to throw the punch. 

Doyle's face was a mask of pain. "Why can't you be happy for me? I thought we were mates." 

"We are," Bodie insisted. "That's why I have to tell you something that you won't believe. You'll think I'm lying. You'll hit me again." Bodie curled his own hand into a fist. "If you can." 

"Jesus, Bodie, whatever it is, tell me or get the fuck out." Doyle let go of Bodie's jacket. "I'm not going to hit you again." 

"You won't like it." 

Doyle clenched his teeth. "You already said that. Get on with it." 

"It's about Ann," Bodie said quickly. 

"Go on."

"She's a-" Bodie's throat tightened. 

"She's a-? What? Last chance." Doyle stood toe to toe with Bodie, ready to fight. 

"Vampire. Ann's a vampire. A queen, to be specific," Bodie said hurriedly. "There. I've said it out loud and even to me, it sounds like a load of rubbish." 

Doyle stared at Bodie, his mouth hanging open. He closed it and opened it to speak, closed it again. He cocked his head, studying Bodie intently. "You're joking." Bodie shook his head. Doyle stepped back. "This is a lark, right?" 

"No lark. It's too serious to joke about." 

Emotions flitted across Doyle's face. Incredulity, amusement, annoyance, irritation. "You hate Ann because I'm with her now," he stated flatly. "I had no idea you were so vindictive. First you want me to believe she's in with her estranged father smuggling drugs, and now you want me to believe she's a-" Doyle sniggered. "I don't know if I can even say it." He moved close enough to Bodie that their noses were almost touching and his voice dropped to a growl. "You're jealous because I love somebody else. You're pathetic." 

"That's bloody stupid," Bodie stated. "I don't hate her because you're with her or because you're shagging her skinny arse or because you gave me the boot. I hate her because she's evil, pure and simple." He pressed closer to Doyle, forcing him to back up. "Think about it," Bodie said, tapping Doyle's forehead. "Do you remember your nights with her? Or are the times you've been in bed with her a huge blank space. Afterwards, does it feel like some sodding dream? Do you know what it feels like like to shag her? How your cock feels going inside her?" Bodie jabbed a finger into Doyle's chest again and again. "Go on. Tell me about it. Brag how she gives the best BJs of any bird you've ever known. How she's a raver, screams when she comes loud enough to wake the neighbours." 

Doyle grabbed Bodie's jacket and shook him roughly. "Stop it! Shut the fuck up!" 

Bodie felt like a rat shaken by a terrier. Doyle jerked him again and again, his eyes filling with angry tears that slipped unnoticed down his face. Bright spots of red dotted his cheeks. Bodie couldn't remember seeing Doyle this furious before. Bodie snagged Doyle by the wrists and held on. 

Doyle shouted, "If she's a fucking vampire, why hasn't she sucked the blood from me? Eh? Isn't that what vampires do?" He ripped himself away from Bodie's hold. "Why would you say such a thing? Why not just tell me you tried one on with her and she told you to fuck off. That you couldn't get her into bed with you and you're pissed off. That'd make sense in a sick kind of way. But a vampire?" 

"She is drinking from you, you stupid tosser!" Bodie grabbed Doyle's upper arms, digging his fingers into him. "Every time you're together!" 

Doyle shook his head vehemently. "No. That's a lie. I'd know. I'd have holes in my neck. Look!" He turned his head, baring his throat. "Look. Nothing! You're lying, Bodie, and it's because you can't stand to be replaced." 

Doyle's words hurt, because they were partially true. He did hate being replaced. "I'm not-" 

Doyle pushed Bodie back onto the sofa and pointed a finger into his face. "Not one more word. I won't have it. If you want to stay partners, be mates, then I'll not hear another word against Ann. I'm in love with her and she's with me. You're sick with envy, but because of our history together, I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened. You have to never speak against her again." 

Doyle turned away and crossed his arms. Pain and anger radiated from him. Bodie wanted to soothe away his torment. He didn't dare. 

Doyle stepped further away. "Get out." 

Bodie slowly got to his feet, conceding defeat. This round went to Ann Holly. He prayed that he hadn't lost the fight. He briefly considered knocking Doyle into unconsciousness and whisking him away to safety. It would be easy. One good bonk and Bodie could have Doyle in one of his bolt holes in two hours, miles from London. He'd truss him up until Ann was dispatched. 

But Doyle would never forgive him. Furthermore, Bodie wasn't his mother or his priest. He was Doyle's best friend, his partner, and he cared. The exhaustion he'd experienced earlier that had temporarily receded during their fight rushed back over him. He was beaten down with sadness and weariness. 

Bodie dragged himself to the door. "I'm sorry, Ray," he said, leaving Doyle alone. 

\--------------------------

Bodie couldn't abandon his partner. He lurked outside for thirty minutes, debating whether or not to fetch the surveillance van. It was useful if Doyle stayed in and Ann showed up. Since he hadn't had a chance to bug Ann's flat, if Doyle high-tailed it to her, he'd have wasted his time. 

Slumped in the car, Bodie yawned. His eyes closed and he drifted off. His head listed sideways, bumping the window. Bodie jerked himself awake and wrenched his neck. He rubbed at the twitching muscle to relieve the tightness when Doyle came out of his building. Bodie waited until Doyle had got into his car and had started off before he followed. After a few miles, Bodie knew Doyle was heading towards Ann's. He was too tired to be scared right now. Turning around, he headed home, imagining himself going to Ann's, kicking in the door and putting a stake into her heart as Doyle lay in bed beside her. The idea had merit and the image he conjured up of a shocked Doyle and a dead Ann Holly made him grin coldly. 

Bodie hoped that Doyle followed through with his task of sussing Ann and her father. If Doyle found the evidence himself that proved Ann was in league with Holly in drugs smuggling, then even though he could dismiss Bodie's accusation that Ann was a vampire, he'd have to believe that she was involved in illegal activities. Any other time Bodie would have had enough faith in Doyle to know that he would do the right thing and bring her in. But Doyle had never been under the influence of a queen vampire before. He didn't have a clue what this Doyle would say or do. He hated this limbo that Doyle had forced them into. He missed their partnership, where they worked together like cogs on a well lubricated machine. Now all they did was circle each other like fighting dogs, ready to attack. 

Bodie's flat was dark and cold. He set the locks and stood in the centre of the room, sure he looked like he felt: lost and tired. He let out a sigh, tossed his keys aside and headed to the bathroom. Barely able to keep his eyes open, Bodie took a piss, scrubbed his teeth and stripped to his pants. 

The rooms were cool without heating and he shivered. He slid into his lonely bed, sure he'd gone beyond exhausted and be unable to sleep. He fell asleep in seconds. 

\-------------------------

Bodie woke with a startled cry. The twin sounds of the telephone ringing and his r/t beeping had shocked him from sleep. He sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. The dream he'd been having was a bad one. Doyle was behind a wall of glass. Bodie tried desperately to reach him. He shot at the wall until his gun was empty. Doyle pounded on the glass, his fists bleeding. Bodie threw the gun aside and began beating against the separation. Doyle screamed for help. Hot tears of frustration coursed down Bodie's face. Doyle's eyes widened. Something pulled at him, dragging him backwards, away from Bodie. All Bodie could do was pound on the glass and watch Doyle being pulled farther and farther away until he disappeared into blackness. 

Bodie slid from the bed, shivering when his feet touched the cold lino. He hurried out into the living room, snapped on a lamp, and lifted the telephone receiver. 

"Hang on!" he shouted. 

Bodie snatched up his jacket and dug out the r/t. 

A familiar, impatient voice said, "3.7, Cowley. Report to my office immediately." 

Bodie groaned. "It's bloody 1 am and I haven't had a decent night's sleep in 72 hours." 

"Bodie, I've got new information regarding Holly. Get here as quick as you can." 

"Sir," Bodie said, letting his annoyance show. "I haven't eaten in hours and I need a shower." A bloke could be pushed only so far before he snapped. Bodie was ready to snap. 

Bodie heard Cowley's sigh loudly. "One hour, 3.7. You'll want to be in on this." 

"Sir," Bodie said. He tossed the r/t aside. "He's a sadist. No question," he muttered. "Probably was head of the Inquisition in another life." Bodie retrieved the phone receiver. "What." He listened then said, "Already spoke to him on the r/t. Nice chatting with you." He hung up and looked heavenward, praying for patience from a God he didn't believe in. 

"Shower first," Bodie said smugly. "Food and hot coffee. Then maybe I'll think about reporting in to my lord and master." 

Cowley wasn't pleased when Bodie showed up in sixty-four minutes. He looked at his watch pointedly then at Bodie. Bodie didn't care.

"Sir," Bodie said. He'd had a few hours of sleep. The bacon sarnies he'd eaten along with the coffee he'd drunk had given him fuel for his furnace. The packet of Swiss rolls he'd enjoyed on the way over had been the icing on the cake, so to speak. He was ready for battle now. 

Cowley stood and leaned on the desk. Bodie didn't like the apologetic look on his controller's face one bit. If Cowley was sorry, Bodie would be sorrier. 

"Well?" Bodie asked. 

"The information I told you I had on the phone was not useful. It was a bad lead." 

"You're joking," Bodie said tensely. "Thanks ever so much." 

"Moderate your tone, Bodie. I didn't know about this fact until less than five minutes ago. Turner did the follow up and the lead died." Cowley looked pointedly at Bodie. "This operation is important and I don't need you acting the prima donna." 

"I'm not-!" Bodie bit his lower lip. While he was in the mood to blast somebody, Cowley wouldn't appreciate being his target. His boss could make his life even more miserable than it currently was. Bodie was a smart man. "Yes, sir," he finally conceded ungraciously. 

Cowley ignored his whingeing. "Good. Let's have a drink before we go through the evidence again." 

Bodie groaned aloud. 

Cowley glared. "You're whining again, 3.7." 

Bodie lifted his chin. "I do not whine." 

Cowley raised an eyebrow. "I would disagree in this instance. Now let's have that drink." 

"Yes, sir," Bodie said. Might as well enjoy Cowley's good stock. As he poured, he wondered if he should be worried about drinking in the wee hours of the morning. Nah. Some nightclubs were still open. A stiff one was totally justified. 

Bodie sipped the fine whisky appreciatively. 

"If nothing else, you have the couth to enjoy that expensive malt," Cowley said testily, casting Bodie a gimlet eye. 

Bodie finished his drink. "Be right back, sir." He headed out of Cowley's office. 

"You leave Kirstie alone," Cowley ordered. 

Bodie put on a look of surprised innocence, pressing his hand to his heart. "Me, sir? Only going to the loo, sir." 

"Hrumph," Cowley mumbled, already returning to the papers on his desk. 

Bodie chuckled, heading through the outer office to the Men's. He unzipped and sighed with relief. He closed his eyes and remembered what the vicar of Holly's village had said: For the fête last year, he organised a flying display. _This year, it's a mini-circus..._ A flying display! Bodie zipped, washed hurriedly and paused by Kirstie's desk. He leaned down. She giggled. He spoke to her briefly and returned to Cowley's office. 

Bodie retrieved his glass and poured another drink. Cowley gave him a curious stare. Bodie grinned. "Fortification, sir." 

Cowley shook his head, lips pursed, clearly not enjoying Bodie's antics. 

"Think it's tonight, then?" Bodie asked, sipping the fine drink. 

Cowley held out his glass. Bodie poured him another measure. He drank. "Oh, aye. Tonight. Soon, within the next twenty-four hours, yes." 

The door opened and Kirstie entered. "There we are, lover." 

Bodie took the paper from her with a delighted grin. "Thanks, darling," he said happily. If he weren't in love with Doyle, he'd be happy to give the adorable Kirstie a tumble. 

Cowley's voice brought him back to the task at hand. "And what's all this for?" 

Bodie took the paper over to the desk and unfolded it. "It's a map of the area around Holly's house." He began to search the map's elevation information. 

"Oh? Well, if you've got an idea, man," Cowley said impatiently. 

Bodie moved a finger along the map until he found Biggin Hill. He leaned closer. "Ah, it's just something the Vicar said. The Vicar of Holly's village, you know. The one I spoke to." 

"Well, what did he say?" Cowley prodded. 

Bodie wanted to respond, "It's in my report, sir," but he wisely said, "I just remember him telling me that, uh, Holly organised a flying display for a fête of his. Now, I've seen some of these displays, sir-"

"Och, so have I-," Cowley interrupted, his lack of interest showing. 

Bodie pressed his case. "I know, but correct me if I'm wrong. Now, with radar at low level, there's a limit, right. I mean, at the last minute, you could actually disappear off the screen. Am I right?" 

Bodie could see the gears whirring in Cowley head when he said, "Uh-hmm." 

Excited now because he knew he was headed in the right direction, Bodie continued, "Now, my theory is: let's say that two of these planes from the display, both with pilots trained for it, are flying really close together. In fact, their wings would be overlapping, like that." Bodie put both hands out, palms down, and he pretended they were planes, demonstrating how they could fly stacked one on top of the other. 

Cowley stared at Bodie. His eyebrows rose. "They'd probably register on radar as one plane," he said, finally catching Bodie's excitement. 

"That's right. At the last minute, one of them peels off." One thing Bodie knew about Cowley was that he was willing to listen and when his agents presented plausible scenarios, he was happy to consider any good idea. Cowley trusted his men to use their heads. 

"The one carrying the drop," Cowley agreed. 

Bodie nodded. "Yup. Goes right under the radar, lands secretly, the other one carries on and lands officially." He grinned, pleased with his plan. 

"It's checked and found clean," Cowley said thoughtfully. After a moment, his eyes lit up. "By God, Bodie, I think you've hit it." 

Pleased, Bodie said, "Yeah. Well, I don't know, but look at this." On the map he pointed to the area around Holly's house. "There's a couple of hills here. That's creating a small valley, probably big enough for a light aircraft. Certainly screen them from the radar, anyway." 

Cowley studied the map for a few moments. Nodding, he wasted no time issuing orders. "We'll stake it out. Move in a task force and get over there ourselves." 

Bodie glanced at his watch. 2:26 am. His adrenaline spiked. The thought of wrapping up the operation, catching these morons smuggling in drugs today and being able to kill Ann Holly made him come alive. He was primed for action when the door opened and Doyle walked in. 

Doyle looked tired but he wasn't angry. Their eyes met. Doyle nodded at him and walked over to join them. Bodie expected Cowley to blast Doyle for being on the property while under suspension but to his credit, he held his tongue and waited. 

"I'm coming with you," Doyle said firmly. "Holly knew Conroy. I've just seen a photograph of them; they were in the RAF together." 

Bodie's eyes lit up. "RAF!" 

"Yeah, that branch of the military where they learn to fly planes," Doyle said, as if he were speaking to a six year old. 

Bodie grinned. Doyle was here with him and going on the op. He was so happy he could have hugged him. But Cowley was here so he settled for giving Doyle a manly punch on the arm. Doyle gave him an apologetic smile. Bodie accepted the apology with a smile. Peace treaty signed and ratified, for now. 

Cowley smiled at Doyle benevolently. "Welcome back, 4.5" 

"Thank you, sir. Sorry about the other evening," Doyle said, waving a hand haphazardly. Doyle was the sort of man who owned up to his mistakes. "I don't know what I was thinking." 

"It's fine, sunshine," Bodie said magnanimously. "I'd have reacted the same way." 

"Ta," Doyle said, looking embarrassed. 

"We don't have time to chit chat. We've a lot of work to do before morning." Cowley gathered up his coat and suit jacket. 

Bodie folded the map and tucked it into his pocket. He admired the way Cowley had said "we" and took Doyle back into the fold with no drama. That was one of the reasons Bodie followed Cowley: he was a man to be admired. 

"Sir," Doyle interrupted. "My gun and ID?" 

Cowley eyed Doyle closely until Doyle had the grace to look abashed. Cowley tsk'd once before he fetched the items from the top drawer of his desk. "I haven't had time to log your suspension in, 4.5, nor did I have a chance to turn your gun into the armoury. I have been busy and don't have time for theatrics. Are we understood?" 

Doyle looked squarely at Cowley. "Thank you, sir." 

Bodie let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Doyle was acting sensible. Cowley was being magnanimous. His world was spinning properly. Thank Christ. "Glad you came to your senses, sunshine." 

Doyle gave him a two fingered salute. 

"Do you touch your mum with that hand?" Bodie smirked.

"Now!" Cowley snapped. 

Bodie snapped to attention. Doyle chuckled at Bodie's reaction. Bodie shrugged, more than happy to be the reason for Doyle's amusement. 

Cowley opened the office door. "Kirstie, I need as many Thermoses of hot drinks as you can muster, and any food we've got about the place. Cups, container of water. Put a packet of those newfangled energy bars in. They taste like dog biscuits, but I've not had a bite since lunch yesterday and my men need something in their bellies to get their blood going. Pack the lot into a box, along with half a dozen torches. Quick, lass! Bring it to the car park as soon as you can!" 

Over Kirstie's retreating footsteps, Bodie whispered to Doyle, "Grab a bottle." He cocked his head at Cowley's sideboard. Doyle grinned evilly and slipped a small one into his jacket pocket. God, it was so great to have Doyle with him! He seemed "normal" at the moment and Bodie was relieved. An operation taking down drugs smugglers was his cuppa, not fighting vampires for his partner's body and soul. 

"Lads!" Cowley called over his shoulder. 

Bodie strode after his controller, Doyle at his heels. Bodie slowed down until Doyle fell in beside him. He gave Doyle a sidelong glance. His world was indeed on its proper axis. 

\------------------------------ 

"You're with me, 3.7," Cowley said when they entered the car park. 

Bodie wanted to go with Doyle since they'd spent limited time together since Ann Holly had entered the picture. 

Cowley glanced over his shoulder. "Now, Bodie." 

"But sir," Bodie protested. 

Cowley walked over to his Granada. "I do not have to explain myself to you, Bodie. Doyle, drive your own car. I've need of another motor," he ordered. 

Doyle shrugged, grinning at Bodie. "See you, mate. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." 

Annoyed, Bodie stomped around to the rear door and climbed into the back. 

Cowley called out, "Turner. You're with me. Put the supplies into the boot." He started the motor and once Turner got in, he pulled out of the garage and headed to Biggin Hill. 

Bodie kept a watch, somewhat mollified that Doyle was close behind. He was reassured when Doyle's headlamps didn't waver off course and after some minutes, he began to doze. 

He woke when Cowley turned off the tarmac and began to drive through a field. The headlamps bounced off the weeds as they made their way around a copse of trees. Cowley stopped the car and got out. "Wait here," he said. 

Cowley walked about, staring around and up. Doyle pulled his car close to Cowley's and waited also. 

"Doyle, put the car over along that line of trees, well out of sight. Make sure it's easy to get at and you can move quickly." 

"Yes, sir," Doyle called. 

Bodie watched Doyle back into the tree line and kill the headlamps. Cowley got back in the car and moved it across from Doyle's. He cautiously backed in and after he'd turned out his headlamps, the night fell over the field, a quiet blanket of darkness. 

Bodie leaned his head out the window and looked up. Stars twinkled against the black sky. This far from London, night was true darkness. Bodie looked at the time. 3:59. He scrubbed at his eyes, yawning and giving a shiver. 

"How can you tell this is a good place?" Bodie mused aloud. 

Cowley looked over his shoulder. "I may be older than you, Bodie, but I've eyes like a cat." 

"Of course you do," Bodie muttered, crossing his arms and hunkering down in his seat. He might as well have a kip before the sun came up.

Doyle trotted up and stood leaning on the Granada.

"Come on, lads," Cowley said to his men. 

Bodie and Turner got out of the car and followed Cowley and Doyle around to the boot. Cowley passed out torches. 

"Make a thorough recce. Be sure that the cars are well hidden and for God's sake, go quietly! I won't be pleased if you're discovered traipsing around the fields by some overzealous farmer with a shotgun!"

"Marvellous," Bodie groused. He stretched out the kinks in his back. "Just what I want. An arse full of buckshot." 

Doyle laughed, punching him in the arm. Bodie scowled and flicked on his torch. 

"3.7, 4.5, check your watches. Report back in fifteen minutes," Cowley said. "7.1, you're with me." 

Bodie watched Cowley and Turner walk away. Doyle stood close to him. Bodie again marvelled at how good it felt being with Doyle. 

"It's bloody dark out here, isn't it?" Doyle asked. 

"Usually is, in the woods in the middle of the night," Bodie said. 

"I'm a city boy. Woods and dark make me twitchy." 

"I'll guard your arse, mate" Bodie said reassuringly. "That's what I'm here for." He bumped Doyle's shoulder with his own. 

Doyle groaned. "Why does that not make me feel better?" 

Bodie put a hand over his heart. "Don't know. Inherent distrust of authority?" 

"Berk," Doyle replied. "Come on, then. Let's get a lay of the land." 

Before Bodie could put a halt on his mouth, under his breath, he said, "Rather get a lay of you." 

"Eh?" 

"Nothing. Lead on, old son. I'm right behind you." 

"Bodie?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks." 

"For what?" 

Bodie could feel Doyle's shoulder lift against his. "Felt like saying it." 

"You're daft," Bodie responded, ruffling Doyle's hair. 

Doyle smiled, and for a moment, Bodie got the idea that Doyle missed his teasing. He knew for himself he missed Doyle's ratty temper and his sarcastic comments. He longed for Doyle's dry sense of humour and practical jokes. He wanted those dark, sweet nights when Doyle's tenderness came through in his kisses and in his touch. Here and now, in the middle of a wood and a night, it was good having Doyle beside him. He knew his brain kept going over and over how he had to have Doyle with him but it was the undeniable truth. 

Bodie headed out and together, they walked along the perimeter of the woods in the opposite the direction to Cowley and Turner. He glanced up. There was only a sliver of a moon but there were uncountable stars dotting the heavens. Bodie fought the ridiculous urge to kiss Doyle senseless under the starry sky. 

Doyle stumbled. He let out a grunt of annoyance. Bodie spun and Doyle's hand flailed. Bodie caught his wrist, righted his partner. Doyle's torch fell. Bodie dropped his own torch and without thinking, he pulled Doyle close and kissed him. 

Groaning deeply, Bodie savaged Doyle's mouth. There was nothing gentle in the kiss, only a roaring hunger. Doyle met Bodie's passion with his own. They bit at each other's lips, tongues stabbing, licking, until neither man could breathe. Doyle pushed Bodie away roughly. The heated impression of Doyle's body quickly leached away, leaving Bodie bereft. 

"Ray," Bodie whispered, his voice rough with desire, with longing. 

Doyle picked up both torches, and he passed one to Bodie. Doyle's voice was sad when he said, "I'm with Ann now." 

Before Bodie could speak, Doyle turned and trotted away. Bodie had no choice but to follow. He put his fingers to his own lips, savouring the taste, the touch of the man he admitted to himself that he loved with a deep and abiding passion. 

Bodie relived what they'd just shared. There had been desire in Doyle's kisses. Passion, need. Bodie smiled. Doyle was captured by Ann's spell but his kisses told Bodie that he wasn't irretrievable. Bodie would save Doyle. With renewed energy, he followed his partner. 

\-------------------------- 

Bodie leaned against Cowley's Granada, yawning into his hand. While it was still dark, the edges of dawn coloured the sky. Cowley returned to his car a few minutes after he and Doyle had returned. They stood in a loose group, talking quietly, when another car came around the woods and headed towards them. Bodie had his gun pulled instantly as did Doyle. 

"Steady, lads," Cowley said. "It's Murphy and Anson. Turner, go and coordinate with them. Cover the east end of the area and be sure the car is out of sight. Then head over to Holly's place and stake it out. Call me the moment you see any movement." 

"Yes, sir," Turner said, heading off. 

Bodie holstered his weapon. The adrenaline spikes of the past few days came and went so quickly that he was feeling their negative effects more rapidly now. He yawned repeatedly into his hand. 

Cowley began to pace, eyeing the sky. Doyle elbowed Bodie in the ribs. "Have a kip, mate. I'll stand by with Cowley." 

Bodie yawned yet again. "Nah." 

"You're knackered," Doyle insisted. "Won't be of much use. I'll wake you in ten minutes." 

It hurt Bodie's jaw to stifle the next yawn. "Sorry." 

"No worries," Doyle said with a smile. 

Bodie returned his smile. "Ta. If you don't mind, I think I'll take you up on your generous offer." 

Doyle sniggered at him. Bodie got into the back of Cowley's car and shut the door. He leaned against it and was asleep in moments, only to be startled awake moments later when he was unceremoniously dumped out of the car. 

"Hey!" Bodie complained. 

Doyle leaned down to him and said conversationally, "It's morning. I thought you'd like to know." 

Bodie looked around. "Ah, thanks. Morning?" He glanced at his watch. 5:09. Doyle, the big softie, had let him sleep forty minutes. God, he loved that lad. 

"Yeah, well, technically, anyway." Doyle's tone was touched with amusement. He winked at Bodie. 

Not wanting Doyle to think he was getting soft, Bodie snarked, "Some nightclubs are still open at this time." He hid the fact that he was thrilled Doyle was teasing him; another sign that his Doyle could be saved. 

Doyle chuckled. 

The radio transmitter in Cowley's car beeped. Cowley hurried over to answer it. 

_"7.1 to Alpha."_

Bodie recognised Turner's voice. He listened in while he uncapped a Thermos and poured himself some of the liquid. He didn't care if it was coffee or tea as long as it was still warm; he wanted a drink to sooth his belly. 

"Come in," Cowley said. 

Doyle held out his cup and Bodie caught the trembling of his hand. Cold fury overtook Bodie. He poured Doyle some, furious once more at Ann Holly and what she'd done to his partner. Doyle was usually steady as a rock and she was ruining him. He couldn't wait for this operation to be over so he could take care of business. As he drank, Bodie knew he would enjoy every second of the time it took to kill Ann Holly. 

_"I can't see anything, but there's a car just started up around the back of the house. Moving away. Your direction, I'd say."_

"Right," Cowley said, putting the handset back. "Remember, lads, stop these smugglers at all costs." At Bodie's smirk, Cowley scowled. "Ach, 3.7, don't play coy with me. You've a gun. Use it if you must. 4.5, stay alert. Don't let anybody out of this field!" 

"Yes, sir," Doyle said. 

Bodie didn't answer, merely gave Cowley a smug smile before he took a large swallow of tea. It tasted marvellous, warm and sweet enough to be reviving. "Hey, d'you think that-" 

Cowley waved a hand towards Bodie. "Shh."

Bodie froze, as did Cowley and Doyle. He heard the distant sound of a light aircraft engine. 

"That way, sir," Bodie said, looking towards the north. 

"There's another one," Doyle said. 

"A daylight drop?" Bodie wondered if Cowley would blast him for saying something so stupid. Wasn't a daylight drop what he'd suspected when he'd sussed out what Holly was up to? A village fête was going to be held during the day, not in the dead of night. Thankfully, Cowley didn't call him on his out of hand remark. 

"A private plane in broad daylight?" Cowley mused aloud. "Less suspicious."

Cowley's r/t crackled to life. 

A male voice Bodie didn't recognise said, _"Air traffic control."_

Bodie marvelled at the depth of Cowley's abilities. He even had ATC on board in this op. 

"Come in," Cowley said. 

The traffic controller said, _"Oh, I might have your aircraft. Alpha Victor Niner Niner. Course for Biggin Hill, shortly to enter our area. I'll patch you through."_

Another man's voice came through. The plane's pilot, more than likely. He would have no choice but to respond to the ATC. _"Biggin Hill. This is Alpha Victor Niner Niner, at flight level seven-zero, heading two-seven-niner. ETA Biggin in ten minutes."_

The air traffic controller responded, _"Alpha Victor Niner Niner, Biggin Hill. We have contact. Maintain heading and height."_

The pilot didn't say anything else. The sound of the aircraft engines grew louder. 

The three men scanned the skies. Cowley said, "They're getting damn close." The airplanes drew closer. "Bodie, you were right." 

Bodie preened under his controller's praise. He leaned over to Doyle and said quietly, "Bet I'm right about everything else too." He let the comment fill the space between them. Give Doyle something to think about, maybe remember the conversation they'd had at Doyle's flat about Ann. About what she was. Maybe he'd remember the kiss they're shared earlier. About how much Bodie cared. 

Suddenly, Cowley clicked on his r/t. "All units. Bandit is coming down. Do not move, repeat, do not move. Let them come to us." 

Bodie focused on the airplane engine sounds that came closer and closer. He could hear the decibel level changing as one of the planes landed, the sputter of the engine echoing through the fields. 

"They're down," Cowley said. 

Bodie nodded. "Yeah, and they're not far away, either. Open the doors, unload the cargo--say, what?" he asked. 

"Thirty seconds," Doyle said. 

Jesus, they couldn't get across these muddy fields in two or three minutes, let alone thirty seconds. 

"Yeah?" Bodie asked, thinking about it. 

Doyle shrugged. "Get a lot of drugs in a small suitcase. Let one, just one, come our way." 

Doyle's face was contorted with anger. He hated drugs, and he'd told Bodie time and again about their destructive effects that he'd seen when he'd been on the Drugs Squad. Drugs were something Bodie had refused to transport during his merc days, and during his stint in CI5, like Doyle, he'd seen the mayhem they caused. He and Doyle would do whatever was necessary to stop this drop and capture the suspects, dead or alive. 

While they waited the last few moments before they were ordered to move out, Bodie understood how much he'd missed this camaraderie, how well he and Doyle worked together. If Doyle were to die, he doubted he'd ever recover from the loss. 

"Got your wish, sunshine," Bodie said. "Sounds like both of them are coming our way." Bodie had no sooner spoken when two vehicles appeared over a small rise, quickly crossing the morning-dew wet fields. The small utility vehicles fishtailed on the slick ground as they tried to make their escape. 

"Doyle!" Cowley shouted. 

Bodie was always surprised at how quickly Cowley could move in spite of his bad leg. His controller was in the Granada in a flash. Bodie leapt into the passenger's seat, barely having time to close the door before Cowley stomped on the accelerator. Doyle raced off and Bodie lost sight of him as the car shot forward. He put one hand on the dash and the other on the door jamb and held on. It was all Bodie could do to keep himself from banging his noggin on the roof. 

Cowley cut off the small white Suzuki. The men inside exited, firing at Cowley and Bodie. Bodie hunkered down behind the rear panel. When one of the suspects, the black man in the flash car he'd seen before, raced past him. Bodie gave chase. When the man turned to fire, Bodie downed him with a flying kick to his torso. The man had thirty pounds and three inches on Bodie but his forward momentum gave him leverage. The man went down with a large grunt and stayed down. 

"Watch him!" Bodie shouted at Turner when he raced over. Turner nodded. Bodie scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could towards where he'd last seen Doyle's Escort. He ran into the woods in time to see Charles Holly splayed on the ground and Doyle pulling bag after bag of white powder from a gym bag. One of the bags had split open and when Doyle brought it down on Holly's head, fine white powder sprayed through the air, dusting Holly like a sudden snow squall. 

Bodie raced over to his partner and grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him away from Holly. "Doyle, stop! He's down. Stop!" 

"Leave me alone!" Doyle cried, wrenching himself away from Bodie. He turned on Bodie, breathing in ragged bursts. "I'll kill the bastard!" 

Bodie tackled him, pinning his arms to his sides. Doyle thrashed wildly. "Leave off! You'll get your chance. Doyle, settle down." 

Murphy joined them. Bodie kept hold of Doyle. "Murph, get that piece of shit out of here." 

Murphy grinned and dragged Holly to his feet. He marched him away. 

"Ray, are you with me?" Bodie asked. He turned Doyle to face him and looked at his sweat streaked face. Doyle's breathing was still fast and ragged. His eyes were dilated and he was trembling from head to foot. "Doyle, mate, take a deep breath." Bodie waited until Murphy was a good bit away before he released his partner. 

Doyle moved away from Bodie stiffly, his fists clenched. Bodie scooped up the plastic bags and stuffed them back into the duffel. 

"Ray?" Bodie asked cautiously, "Are you okay?" 

"No, I'm not okay," Doyle ground out. 

"Take it easy. We got the suspects and the drugs. We did a good job." 

"Why are you being so bloody calm?" Doyle snarled. 

Bodie grinned, shrugging. "It's my lot in life, keeping you under control. Can't go off on a rampage myself now, can I?" 

"Kiss my arse," Doyle snarled, his face pale and his voice breaking. Sweat ran down his face and his shoulders shook. His lips were a thin white line and his eyes looked dazed and wild at the same time. 

Bodie raised an eyebrow. He'd needle Doyle into some semblance of sanity if he had to. He couldn't let Cowley see Doyle in this condition: like some junkie coming down from a high. Because to Bodie, that's what was happening to him. He'd been away from Ann's influence long enough to kick him into withdrawal from her spell. Bodie hid his terror at the idea of Doyle withdrawing and put on his usual humorous demeanour. 

"Any time you like," Bodie snarked. 

"You're talking about fucking at a time like this?"

"Why not? I'm a physical animal." 

"You're a sick bastard," Doyle said nastily. 

"Takes one to know one." 

"Fuck you." 

"Already said, have at it." Bodie held out his arms and wiggled his hips. 

Doyle stared at him for a long moment before he blinked slowly and visibly deflated. "Sorry." 

"No worries," Bodie said magnanimously. Doyle was crashing after a drugged on Ann high. _What a sodding disaster. Soon, mate, soon you'll be free._ He would recover, and Bodie would help him. For now, he had to focus Doyle on something to keep him from betraying his condition to Cowley and he had to get Doyle busy so he could take care of Ann Holly. 

"We got them, Ray. Fucking drugs peddlers." 

Doyle brushed his hands against his trousers. "Fucking drugs. I hate them." 

"Yeah, me too. And I know you want to be in on the questioning back at HQ. I know you want to talk to Charles Holly, right. You have important things to ask him." 

Doyle nodded vehemently. "Yeah, yeah, I do. I have to find out about Ann." 

"Definitely," Bodie said. "You deserve the truth." 

"Bodie! Doyle!" Cowley called. 

"Interrogation time, Ray," Bodie said. "Holly is yours." 

"Holly is mine," Doyle echoed. "I've got to be in on the questioning. I've got to know." 

"So be in on the questioning. Cowley'll let you. He wants you to know the truth." 

Bodie thanked every god in the heavens that Doyle was determined to question Holly. Good. It would keep him busy for several hours after they got back to London. Plenty of time for Bodie to carry out his own private mission. 

"Come on, then," Bodie said, hefting the duffel. The sooner we get back to town, the sooner you'll get your answers." He started off. Doyle followed. "I'll ride with you. Keep you company." 

Doyle nodded, hurrying over to the Escort. Bodie handed Cowley the duffel and started to follow Doyle. 

"Bodie!" 

Bodie turned. "Sir?" 

"I need you to drive that Suzuki to the forensics garage. The lab boys are waiting." 

Bodie rolled his eyes. "Doyle, see you back at HQ?" 

Doyle waved a hand over his shoulder and drove off. Bodie quickly got into the Suzuki and followed Doyle. If he couldn't be in the same vehicle as his partner, then he'd stick like glue to his rear bumper. There was no way he'd let Doyle be distracted and alter his course back to London. 

\--------------------------

Bodie was relieved that Doyle didn't deviate from his path back to town. Bodie took the Suzuki to the far end of the garage, through a large set of doors and into the forensics section of the garage. 

"Morty!" Bodie got out, leaving the keys in the ignition. The yellow Suzuki was an uncomfortable ride and his back ached from the hard seat. 

A grey-haired man glanced up from under the bonnet of one of the motor pool's vehicles. "Afternoon, 3.7." 

"Cowley said you're waiting for this. Confiscated from a drugs bust an hour ago," Bodie said. "He wants a full work up." 

"Everybody always wants something," Morty complained. "Artie!" 

Bodie saw Morty's right hand man trot out from around the side of a transit van. The slim young man with long brown hair and brown eyes that were much too pretty for a bloke answered, "Yeah, guv." 

Morty snorted. "Don't 'guv' me. Log in the Suzuki." 

"Yes, sir," Artie said. 

Bodie shook his head. It didn't matter which department, there was always somebody in charge yelling at somebody who wasn't. 

"I'm off, lads," Bodie said, leaving the area at a run. He had to be sure Doyle was occupied so he could get away and finish his self-appointed task. On the way to Cowley's office, he glanced over at his Capri. He was comforted by the image of his vampire hunting kit nestled in the boot. 

Bodie hurried into Cowley's office. Holly was sitting in a chair with Doyle hovering over him, his hands on slim hips. Bodie knew he was trying to intimidate Holly with his stance. Cowley leaned back in his chair, hands steepled in front of him. He was observing Doyle and Holly. Bodie slipped in quietly and found a quiet corner to watch from. Doyle was a good interrogator, as long as he kept his cool. Bodie had to stifle a cold laugh. Doyle wasn't keeping his cool much at all these past few days. 

Doyle glared down at Holly, a menacing snarl on his lips. 

Holly shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I demand to speak to my lawyer. You can't charge me-" 

Cowley gave Holly a smile, looking like a piranha approaching unwary prey. "We're not charging you, not just now. We'd like to talk first," he said conversationally. 

Doyle didn't bother trying to hide his contempt. "Tell us about Ann." Holly looked genuinely confused. "Come on, what about her?" he demanded. 

"Who the hell are you talking about?" Holly asked. 

Doyle snorted derisively. "Your daughter. You remember your daughter?"

Holly's confusion turned into distaste. "Oh, that Ann."

"Yeah, that Ann. So how is she involved?" Doyle demanded. 

Bodie studied Holly as he spoke. Holly was a low down drugs smuggler but if he were to make a bet, he'd bet that Holly hadn't thought about Ann in many years. Why was that? His own daughter... 

"Involved?" Holly started to understand Doyle's line of questioning. He shrugged. "Haven't seen her for years." 

"Conroy had," Cowley said shortly. 

Bodie again noticed Holly's look of perplexity.

"Conroy?" Holly parroted. 

Bodie sighed. Maybe he could sneak out now. Thirty minutes to Ann's flat. A few more to get her into his car with some story. Flutter his eyelashes, charm her if he could, maybe say Doyle was waiting for her. At this rate, it would take days to interrogate Holly. 

"Come on, you knew Conroy," Bodie said, exasperatedly. 

"Of course I knew him." Holly looked at Bodie like he was a moron. 

Doyle stopped pacing. "So what's he doing running around in that apartment block, her apartment block?"

"Which apartment block? Where?" Holly asked. 

Bodie wanted to scream with frustration. This line of questioning was going nowhere, yet Cowley was willing to let Doyle handle this for the moment. Maybe Cowley reckoned if Doyle did the asking he'd finally know for sure whether or not Ann was involved. Cowley being nice? Bodie was impressed. Cowley cared about Doyle in his own fashion. 

"Kensington. Stanford Court," Cowley supplied. 

"She still live there? Yes, I suppose she must. She'll have inherited it from her mother. I bought two flats there, years ago, by way of investment; when we split up, she kept one. The other was sold to- Conroy's sister, I think. She married; I don't know her name." 

Holly's tone was merely informational. Bodie couldn't hear anything that implicated Ann in the drugs smuggling. Holly could be a consummate liar. Holly could be telling the truth. Which one? He chewed on his inner cheek until a totally new idea began to form. Ann Holly. Charles Holly. _Jesus Christ._ Ann had used Charles Holly for some reason. For food? For money and/or shelter? The elder Holly didn't remember a bloody thing. Bodie was on the verge of putting a fist through the wall he was so outraged. Charles Holly wasn't Ann Holly's father at all. She'd used him and then somehow scrambled his thoughts and memories. She hadn't kept him as her blood slave or he'd be dead. Bodie would never know or understand how Ann had used Holly but it explained why Holly's answers were so vague, so unemotional. Bodie went with his gut and it told him that Holly was telling the truth: Ann wasn't involved in the drugs smuggling. 

She'd done something much worse. 

Fists clenched and buried deeply in his jacket pockets, Bodie forced his attention back to the interrogation. 

"That's why Conroy was going there," Doyle insisted. "To see his sister maybe." 

"I suppose so. Is it important?" Holly asked. 

"Yeah. Very important," Doyle said. 

Voices from the corridor filtered into Cowley's office. Bodie looked at the closed door. A man and a woman. Turner and- Ann Holly?" 

Doyle launched himself into action. He pulled the door open and raced out of the room. Bodie heard Doyle's call of "Ann!" He started for the door himself. 

"Bodie! Just leave them," Cowley warned. 

Bodie looked at his controller, his lips tight. Cowley emphasised his words by shaking his head. Bodie grimaced and paused, dropping his head. He turned on his heels and stomped over to the window overlooking the street below. Ann and Doyle were standing face to face. Doyle held her by her upper arms. He couldn't see Doyle's face from this angle but he could clearly interpret his body language. Doyle was slumped in on himself, bereft, contrite. Ann's face was angry. She was crying and she pulled out of Doyle's hold. Doyle went rigid, hands clenched and shoulders taut when she got into her car. 

Doyle slumped his shoulders and hung his head, looking like a whipped puppy. _Drive away. Drive away,_ Bodie thought. Then he could take off, get Ann alone, hack her head off. He'd console Doyle first then send him back to interrogation. He'd follow Ann, take care of business. 

Bodie grinned coldly, giving Ann a moment or two to drive off. But she didn't drive off. Instead she got back out of her car. She said something to Doyle. Doyle's head whipped up. His entire body changed instantly. He moved towards her. She lifted a hand, cupped his cheek. Doyle rubbed his face on her palm. Bodie clenched the window blind, crushing it in his hand. 

In the next moment, Doyle's arm circled Ann's shoulders. He kissed her cheek, then released her. She got back into the car and before Bodie could register what he was seeing, Doyle was in the car and Ann was driving away. 

_Driving away. Driving away with Doyle. No!_

"Holy fuck," Bodie blurted out. He raced to the door. 

"Bodie!" Cowley called. 

Bodie ignored Cowley. If he let Ann take Doyle away, there was an excellent chance he'd never see his partner again. Cowley shouted his name again but he never slowed down. He ran out into the street. Ann's car was gone. 

"No," he shouted. "No!" Bodie turned, kicked something on the pavement. He picked up a leather wallet: Doyle's ID. His heart dropped. "No," he whispered. "Ray." He wrapped his fingers around the leather that still held a trace of warmth from Doyle's body. 

"Fucking bitch!" he hissed. _Ann had Doyle._ The thought raced through his brain and spurred his feet into action. _Ann had Doyle._ He ran to his car. _Ann had Doyle._

It took him a precious five seconds to put the key into the ignition. He cursed his shaking hand and jammed the gear lever into reverse. Tyres squealing, he backed out of the garage, mindless of other traffic. Luck was with him. He made it out onto the street without a crash. Bodie stomped on the brakes, shoved the gear lever into first and smashed the accelerator to the floor. Fishtailing wildly, the Capri lurched forward amid a cloud of burning rubber and shrieking tyres. He shifted into second, careened around the corner and hit third gear. He was going fifty as he approached the intersection. 

The signal ahead was red. Bodie would have run the light except for the traffic that had stopped in front of him. Since he couldn't push them out of his way or fly over them, he put the gear level into neutral and hit the brakes, making a stop so jarring that he came within inches of bashing his own noggin on the windscreen. Foot tapping in annoyance, the light finally turned green. Bodie shot forward, barely missing the tail end of the blue Fiat in front of him. 

"Hurry up!" he snarled, his mind racing. Where had Ann taken Doyle? Where? 

Bodie knew he had to be logical, had to conduct this abduction like any investigation or he'd miss something important. He had to find Doyle before Ann got him out of the city or worse, out of the country. She would know how to hide herself and Doyle away so that nobody would ever find them. Ann would have total control over him until he died. The thought of escape would never occur to him. 

Where would she go? Doyle's flat. Nah. It'd be the first place anybody would look. Ann's flat? Again, too simple. Ann wasn't dumb but neither was Bodie. Step by step. He'd check Doyle's flat first since it was on his way, then Ann's. After that- Bodie's heart thudded and he began to sweat. He didn't want to think about "after that". 

Bodie's r/t squawked. He picked it up from the passenger's seat and pressed the button. "What?"

"Return to HQ, 3.7," Cowley ordered. 

"Ann Holly has Doyle," Bodie said shortly. 

"Do not come between them, Bodie. You'll regret it," Cowley snapped. 

Bodie gritted his teeth. "Sir-" 

"That is a direct order." 

With no options left, Bodie pushed the talk button. "Are you alone, sir?"

"Yes."

"Is this line secure?" 

"The phone is. Your r/t can be problematic." 

"Can't be helped. Listen carefully. I'm calling this in as Operation HellStorm. Call Nairn and tell him that!" Bodie shouted. He disconnected, tossing it onto the floor.

Four red lights interfered with Bodie's trek. He wished he had that bloody siren now. Anxiously, he moved forward when traffic did, driving past Hyde Park and Marble Arch. He pushed the car as much as he could until he got to the Uxbridge Road. He turned right and cruised by Doyle's building, searching for Ann's car. When he didn't see it, he drove two streets down, turned around and went back. The parking gods were smiling on him because there was now an open space. He jammed the Capri into it, front tyres smacking the kerb, and raced across the lawn, up the stairs and slipped into the building when another tenant was leaving. Taking the stairs two at a time, he got to Doyle's. Bodie didn't bother stopping; he kicked it in. A fast race through the flat showed him nothing of interest. Doyle's passport was still in his bureau, not that it mattered. Ann would have ways around that. He flew down the stairs and back to his vehicle. 

Peeling out, he headed towards Ann's. Traffic on her road was much too slow but there wasn't much he could do unless he sprouted wings and flew over London's busy streets. As he drove, his instincts told him he wasn't going to find anything at Ann's. With sudden clarity, Bodie knew where Ann had taken Doyle: to Charles Holly's house. Holly was in custody. The house was empty. It would make a good stopping off place for the night, time enough to make plans, gather resources. By morning they would be gone forever. 

With a quick glance around, Bodie made a handbrake turn. He raced towards Trinity Road. A traffic accident on Wickham Road slowed him down for a short while. He anxiously drummed his fingers onto the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. His r/t beeped several times and the police band radio joined in but he ignored them. No interruptions would be tolerated on this operation. 

It was dusk when he roared past the church and got to Holly's house. He parked a distance away, studying the house through the trees. The two storey, white columned brick building stood in the shadows of large trees. All seemed to be quiet. Bodie climbed out and opened the boot. He pulled out a torch, tested it, and then dug into the small haversack. 

Bodie kitted himself out with the newly blessed implements provided by the helpful priest from St. Barts: a silver stake, a .38 gun with silver bullets, two vials of holy water, and a sharp knife. He patted the 9mm that rested under his arm. Normal rounds wouldn't kill a vampire but putting a few of them into Ann Holly might make him feel really, really good. 

With a snort of wry amusement, Bodie moved out. He crept down the drive and around the house, keeping well in the shadows. The windows were dark. He heard nothing but the night insects chirping away. Behind the house, on a neatly raked gravel drive, sat Ann's Suzuki. Bodie grinned with grim pleasure. He put a hand on the bonnet. Still warm. Victory! 

He had her now. 

Stake in hand, Bodie paused. The metal was cool and heavy, and the idea of plunging nine inches of gleaming silver into Ann's chest made him shiver with delight. He'd never experienced such a rush of intense arousal when he imagined impaling Ann. It was one fucking he was going to thoroughly enjoy. 

Bodie again studied the house. There could be somebody besides Ann and Doyle inside. Maybe the manservant he'd met the other day, or a housekeeper, a cook. He should have thought about calling the house from a phone box before he'd arrived. Too late now. Bodie trotted over to the garage and looked inside. It was empty. He stared at the house once more and made his decision: he was going to move out and hope nobody else was inside. He didn't want to hurt any bystanders but he'd take them down if he had to. 

With single minded intensity, Bodie prowled the perimeter of the house. On the second floor, far left window, there was a faint light shining through what looked like lace draperies. The light moved as if alive, dancing against the open design and filtering through the window panes. Candlelight. Bodie waited. No one looked out. Another few moments passed. Nothing moved. Taking in a deep breath, Bodie slowly exhaled and crossed the manicured back garden to the nondescript white wooden door set in the brick wall. He glanced in, pressing the torch to the glass. A bootroom, with pegs along one wall where jackets and rain coats hung. Several pairs of wellies stood in a row. 

Bodie turned the door handle. It opened easily under his hand. Fearing rusty hinges, he pushed on the door an inch at a time. It swung in quietly. He breathed a small sigh of relief, smirking at his own anxiety. The house was nicely turned out. No reason to expect the hinges to be untended. Too many late night horror films, he reminded himself. 

Treading quietly, he crossed the bootroom into the kitchen. The torch showed a room with all the mod cons, bright copper pots and shelves of dishes. Bodie sniggered to himself, wondering what Ann would do if she walked in, seeing him sitting down to have a snack at the large wooden table that dominated the centre of the room. He went around the table, barely glancing at the centrepiece of a large Blue Willow bowl full of red apples. 

Bodie walked softly on the stone kitchen floor and took the far right door. It swung outwardly, quiet as a grave. Bodie thanked the housekeeping gods who lived here. 

In the dining room, Bodie paused. A quick inspection showed nothing of interest past the usual rosewood furniture and heavy silk draperies. Portraits glared at him, eyes from fish and deer and fox gleamed. He walked across the hardwood floor to the arched doorway leading out into the hall. 

The torch's beam showed a large staircase leading majestically up. The main entry way's double doors were closed. Bodie walked up a few steps and stopped. He tried to listen but the pounding of his heart was roaring in his ears. He forced himself to calm down and after a few moments, he closed his eyes and used his senses to their utmost. He smelled the scent of candle wax and he heard the murmur of voices. 

Bodie crept up the stairs, carefully placing each foot on the carpeting. Now was not the time to find the one riser that squeaked. He skulked down the corridor towards the lighted square that spilled dancing shadows out onto the hallway. He could distinguish Ann's voice. While it had a soothing quality on its surface, something made the hair on the back of Bodie's neck rise. There was a mark of viciousness to it, a tone that demanded obedience. 

Bodie pocketed his torch and sidled up to the open door with his back to the wall. He leaned there for a second or two, fingers on the stake flexing with anticipation. He held the .38 in his right hand. A large mirror hung on the wall directly across from the open door and he had his own private film of what was going on in that bedroom. He blinked, momentarily surprised that he could see Ann Holly. So much for the lore that vampires were not able to see their reflections in mirrors. 

Bodie's heart thudded as fury raged through him. Ann had Doyle splayed out on the bed. He was writhing as if bound yet Bodie could see no restraints. He was naked; his cock hard, jutting over his belly, and a constant stream of breathless whimpers escaped his lips. His eyes were open; his body jerked. Ann bent over Doyle, her hands clamped on his upper leg. She twisted the flesh roughly to expose his inner thigh. She bit down. Doyle screamed, a thin, reedy cry. His cock jerked, and he orgasmed, semen shooting into the air like a small geyser. Bodie was shocked to his core when he could see Ann's throat ripple as she fed. 

Bodie let out a warrior's war cry. He burst into the room in full fury, stumbling over something he'd not had time to notice. His shots went wild, one thudding into the wall over the bed and the other shattering the window behind Ann's head. 

Recovering quickly, Bodie righted himself, planted his feet and took aim. Ann moved with inhuman speed. Bodie blinked once; she stood about ten feet away with Doyle hanging limply in her grasp. One of her arms was wrapped around his neck; with a hand in his hair, she wrenched his neck sideways, exposing his carotid artery. She smiled; her fangs glistened in the candle light, her lips and teeth discoloured from Doyle's blood. She licked her mouth with a gleam in her eye. 

"Hello, Bodie," Ann said quietly. "If you move a muscle, I'll kill him." 

Bodie clutched at the stake. He readied himself. His foot hit whatever he'd tripped over. A quick look revealed one of Doyle's shoes. He took half a step forward. 

"Do you doubt me?" Ann asked. Without hesitation, she bit into Doyle. She didn't drink but let the blood flow. She tossed Bodie a savage grin. "Well?"

Bodie was immobilised. Blood seeped from Doyle's neck. Sickly fascinated, Bodie tracked a stream as it slowly ran down Doyle's chest, belly and disappeared into his public hair. Another thin stream and another pulsed out with each breath Doyle took. He wouldn't die quickly from the slow blood loss but it was only a matter of time if Bodie didn't make his move soon. 

"Stop! God damn you, stop it!" Bodie dropped the gun and stake. "Please don't," he begged. His belly clenched. The bloody streams made their way through Doyle's pubic hair and traced down his thigh. A small pool began to gather at his foot. "What do you want?" 

Ann smiled coolly, her eyes large and dark. How could he have ever thought she was pretty? She was ugly, her face contorted with hate. "Do you need to ask?" 

"You can't have him," Bodie said from between clenched teeth. Doyle's blood glittered in the candlelight, a small red stain that was spreading. "Please don't hurt him." Bodie sucked in a deep breath before he blew it out. He'd rather have Doyle dead than enthralled, a vampire's blood slave. He'd put a bullet in Doyle's head himself before he'd concede defeat, but first he'd do everything in his power to save both Doyle and himself. 

"I've put down the weapons already. What else do you want me to do?" Bodie demanded. 

"Good." Ann nodded. "He's mine. You've no claims on him. Not any longer." 

With utter shock, Bodie could only watch when Ann pushed Doyle's head to the side and slowly licked the puncture wounds. He was mesmerised when the holes began to ripple, then pucker. In seconds, the only evidence of her bite was the remnants of the blood trails on Doyle's body. 

The idea was sick; the reality strangely fascinating. 

"You have one choice: go away immediately or I will kill you." Ann narrowed her eyes. "I never did like you." 

Bodie stayed put, his brain running full tilt. How to distract her? Get Doyle away from her. 

"Don't even consider it," Ann said, her eyes flashing. "I know what you're thinking. You can't overpower me. You can't outrun me. If you want to survive, you'll run away now." 

A plan formed. "Is he okay?" Bodie asked, dropping his eyes and letting his worry and fear show through. It wasn't difficult: he was smart enough to be scared of this creature. "I have to be sure. Please." 

Ann grinned triumphantly. "He's mine," she said, gloating with satisfaction before she looked at him with disgust. "He told me about you." 

Bodie must have revealed something on his face because Ann laughed coldly. Had she seen into him somehow? Could she tell how much he loved Doyle and how terrified he had been to tell him? 

Ann shifted Doyle in her arms, her hold tightening. "He told me how you used him. Fucked him but never loved him. He wanted love, Bodie, and you were too stupid, too selfish to give it to him." Her smile turned sweet and innocent. Bodie was astonished at how she could manipulate her demeanour so easily. Her tone took on a girlish, breathless quality. "He loves me now. You can tell yourself in the dead of night when you're alone that he was never yours." Ann shrugged, clearly bored now. Doyle's head swung from side to side on limp neck muscles. "It doesn't matter if he was yours. Possession is... What did I tell you that night? Possession is nine tenths of the law." Ann stroked Doyle's sweat-soaked hair. "And I definitely have possession, body and soul." 

Bodie lifted his chin and met Ann's gaze. "Wait. There's something..." He sniffed the air noisily. "Oh, my. Is that what I think it is? You've quickened, haven't you?" 

For a moment, Ann looked confused. A frown marred her pale forehead. Her red lips pursed and from his position, Bodie saw her shiver. 

Bodie squared his shoulders, trying to appear at ease. "I can smell it on you," he said quietly. He slowly ran a hand across his groin. "I can taste it in the air," he said breathlessly, hoping he wasn't picking a battle he couldn't win. "I know about queens. I know you won't mate with Ray. If you'd wanted him, you'd already have fucked him."

Ann's eyes closed. She let out a small moan. 

Bodie stepped forward half a pace. "I'm here. What about me? Go on, look at me," he demanded. He undid a few of his shirt buttons. "Am I worthy? Would your body accept mine? Would you soon be holding an offspring; a b-baby." He stumbled on the word but forced himself to say it, as repugnant as the idea was. "A baby of your own." 

"Stop it," Ann said, her words lacking heat. "Shut up." 

"Have you ever wanted a child? I understand how rare it is; how hard it is for one of your kind to be successful. Think about it." Bodie carefully put a hand into his pocket and palmed one of the small vials of holy water. Hiding it, he took off his jacket and shirt. He pulled his vest over his head and tossed it aside. "Well? What do your instincts tell you about me? About how we'd be together? You need a strong man and I'm more than willing." Bodie didn't bring up the fact that he knew a queen vampire killed her sperm donor. Let her think he was ignorant of that fact. 

Bodie used every ounce of strength he could to project dominance, power, forcing her to focus on him. He blocked out everything, concentrating fully on Ann. "You've fed from him, now use me. I'm not going to fight you. In fact," he said with a throaty laugh, "I'm looking forward to it. You're a gorgeous woman." He unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped. They slipped down his hips to pool at his feet. He didn't have to look at himself to know he wasn't hard. He prayed Ann hadn't noticed. 

Ann moved with a grace that Bodie hated to admit she had. Doyle dropped to the floor and she stepped around him like he was so much rubbish. She dismissed Doyle the same way Bodie would dismiss the remnants of a fine prime rib dinner. 

Ann was breathing roughly, her hand shaking, when she reached out for Bodie. Her eyes were wide, luminous, large tears slipping down her cheeks. Her mouth was open, and breathless little sounds of desire tumbled out. She touched her own breasts and a small moan escaped her lips. Bodie licked his bottom lip, rubbing his belly slowly. He prayed he projected desire instead of revulsion. With one finger, he flipped the top from the concealed vial. When she got close enough, he got ready-

Bodie never had the chance to toss the holy water. She backhanded him across the face hard. His head snapped to one side, the vial flying through the air. Pain shot down his neck and back. He was thrown sideways off his feet. He slammed into the wall, hitting his temple against the skirting board and leaving a smear of blood on the yellow wallpaper. Dazed, he grunted, landing on the floor in a heap. 

Ann was on him in the next breath. She held his chin and spat into his face. The warm spittle hit him in the eyes. She used a hand to spread the fluid down his cheek. Bodie's last independent thought was that he was well and truly screwed now. 

In the next second, Bodie was overtaken with lust so intense it left him gasping. He cried out, arching his back, and bashed the back of his own head against the wall. His head swam, his vision greying in and out. The room tipped and spun in a burst of bright colours, as if he were looking through a child's kaleidoscope. Dizzy, his stomach lurched even as his entire body zinged with pleasure. Bodie reached for Ann. He wanted her for his own. 

Ann easily batted his hands away and grabbed his hair. "Miscalculated again, didn't you, CI5 agent?" She dragged him across the floor. "Not so tough after all." Bodie screamed with pain yet his cock hardened. His coordination was off; all he could do was flail wildly. Tears stung his eyes. 

Ann released him and stomped a foot into his gut. "Men are worthless." 

Bodie groaned, coughing when his chest muscles spasmed. "Please," he begged. "Fuck me, fuck me. Please." He blinked, barely able to see through the tears in his eyes. The pain in his head ratcheted up. His vision swam. His body ached. He would do anything to have Ann for his own. Anything. 

Ann stood over him, breathing heavily. She kicked him in the side. He jerked, letting out a garbled cry as the breath was knocked out of him. Spikes of discomfort lashed at his chest. She latched onto his balls through his briefs and pulled viciously. Bodie screamed, orgasming. The pain/pleasure overtook him. He blacked out momentarily, only to be brought back to consciousness by Ann's vicious slaps to his face. She held him by the hair, hitting him again and again. 

"You're mine now. For as long as I need you, you're mine!" Ann cried. 

Another slap to his face. He lifted his hips, fucking the air mindlessly. 

"Our child will be strong, a female. Males are worthless, good only for food." 

Slap. Blood coated his tongue. He drank it and wanted more. 

"A sweet queen for me. Death for you." 

Slap. Slap. Blood trickled down Bodie's throat, making him gag. He swallowed, choking. 

Ann wrenched him from the floor, shaking him so roughly he was sure his eyes would pop from his head. All Bodie could do was sob and beg through his swollen lips, "Pleasepleaseplease." 

Bodie wanted Ann like he'd never wanted anything in his entire life. If he had the strength, he would have reached for her. His limbs were useless, his body unable to respond to even a simple command. Ann shoved him back onto the floor and from blurry eyes, Bodie saw her fall to her knees beside him. 

Ann ran her fingers through his hair. "Poor pet," she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "It's been so long! I've dreamed of this day!" Ann grasped Bodie's cock roughly, her fingers squeezing until Bodie screamed. She tightened her grip. He screamed again until his throat was so raw he could only croak. 

"So pretty," Ann said, leaning down. She bit Bodie's nipple. 

Bodie arched his back, crying out. Pain centered in his chest, spidering through his belly. From blurry eyes, Bodie watched helplessly when Ann moved to hover over him. Her body aligned with his. Now! Finally, Bodie would get what he so desired. Through the haze of pain, anticipation grew. Ann smiled and punched him in the temple. His vision burst in a rainbow of starlight. His cries were weak, muffled, his throat closed. He could barely breathe. She twisted his neck viciously. 

"I want a good fight, Bodie. You're a disappointment." Ann dug her nails into his throat. "Fight, for God's sake! Don't just lie there like a lap dog!" She jerked him several times. 

Bodie didn't want to fight. He didn't care what she did to him as long as she was touching him. He would have begged if he had a voice left to use. After a few minutes, he was able to blink his eyes. He lay splayed on the floor, every muscle and nerve fraught with pain. His lungs burned from screaming. His body wanted Ann. He sobbed constantly, tears flowing down his cheeks, and waited. 

Ann sat on his chest, her fingers tracing the veins on his neck. "I'm always so disappointed in men," she mused. "They're ruled by their penises, you know." 

Each touch left its own trail of fire. Through the tears, Bodie admired Ann's beauty. Her eyes were beautiful pools of black. Her hair framed her face like a sheet of living fire. Bodie would do anything for her. If she'd asked him to kill Doyle at this moment, he'd do so without hesitation. He had to have her. She had to own him. He would never fight her. 

Ann moved closer. Her fangs extended, white and glistening with spittle. Bodie found enough strength to cry out, "Yes!" He ached to feel Ann's teeth on him. He longed to have her tear into his flesh, to drink from him, to touch his cock. Her hold on him was like molten metal covering his skin. Wherever she touched him, he sizzled. He was numb, yet his need for more of the pleasure she inflicted on him grew. 

Ann's eyes glittered in the candlelight, promising pleasures he didn't know existed, promising him pain that he would enjoy. In a rough voice, he pleaded, "Pleaseplease." 

"You want more?" she asked sweetly. Her mouth pursed, luscious red lips perfectly formed. She kissed him. 

An explosion of lust rushed over him. As she pulled away, Bodie followed, his mouth sucking the empty air. "Annnnn. Yessss," he wailed. "Yes!" 

Ann kissed him again. Bodie opened his mouth, his body turning into a boneless heap. He was unable to move. Ann controlled him fully. She plunged her tongue between his lips. He would have sucked it if he could have moved. All he could do was take what she was willing to give. She pulled out all too quickly. Bodie wanted to protest her withdrawal but he was not able to speak. He could only be used. 

"My petal," Ann said softly. "It's time. I think it's time!" She began to laugh hysterically, her hands tightening on his throat. Her hold tightened. 

Bodie watched with eyes wide open when Ann leaned down, her hair brushing his skin. The individual strands touching him were like needle pricks. She got closer and closer. 

Bodie skirted the edges of unconsciousness, pinned to the floor by Ann's power. Even now, he wanted her. His cock pulsed, so hard it was painful. His balls were going to burst.

Bodie was vaguely aware when Ann licked at his throat, pressing her tongue to his carotid artery. An intense desire far beyond what was humanly possible ensnared him. He began to drift along on the river of lust so deep that he wanted to drown. From a far away place, a voice whispered in his ear. The words somehow made it into his brain, coalesced into rational thought. 

"Bodie, I've changed my mind. I don't want you after all. I do want you do die now." 

_No!_ Even then, he still wanted her. 

Ann's teeth tore into his neck. He couldn't scream. He couldn't move of his own volition. His body reacted independently. It arched from the floor. His cock burned and pulsed, spurting come in harsh pulses. His world turned to grey then black as Ann's teeth sank in deeper. She sucked hard. 

Bodie understood what it was like to know you were dying. There was a loud pounding in his ears. His heart beat slowed; his breath faltered, yet he wanted more. The pleasure of it all was exquisite. Bodie hoped it would never end. 

Ann drank. His heart thudded, faltered: Thump, thud. Thump, thud. Thump-

Reality returned. Bodie jerked, banging his head once again. He was one huge aching mass of nerve and sinew. A weight pressed down on his chest. His eyelids were so heavy it was a struggle to blink. His chest was so tight it was a struggle to breathe. The weight lessened. He took in a shuddering breath, then another. He wanted to wipe his eyes but his hand refused to obey his commands. He had no choice but to lay still, a panting, mewling lump until his body determined that it had enough air to live. By degrees Bodie became aware of his surroundings. His heart still beat; his lungs did their work. He was alive. He had no idea how long it was before he could see. His vision wavered, like water running down a window, and after more time spent merely breathing, he was able to move a hand, to rub at his eyes. He wiped away his tears. 

A sickening smell assailed him. Bodie gasped, rolled to his side and vomited onto the carpeting. He made himself breathe in and out until he had control of his belly before he dared to look around. The first thing he saw was a pair of bare feet. He raised his head, following them up legs, a torso, until he saw a face. 

"R-r-ray?" Bodie whispered, his voice rough, his mouth dry. "Ray?" 

Doyle stood five feet away and in his hand he clutched the .38. Bodie's guts twisted when he saw the devastated look on his partner's face. Doyle's voice was barely a whisper. "Ann." 

Doyle stood as still as a statue, eyes wide, breathing shallowly. He held the gun loosely in his hand and he stared at a spot on the floor. Bodie shuddered deeply, following the track of Doyle's gaze. Several feet away from Bodie was the rapidly shrivelling body of Ann Holly. He recognised her from the red hair that was as vibrant as if she still breathed. The body steamed and hissed, emitting a horrendous stench of decay. Bodie tore his eyes away, his guts rebelling once again. He wished he could have shut out the sizzling sound that came next. Unable to stop himself, he had to look. As Ann's body turned into a dried husk, a small silver bullet hit the carpet with a muffled chink and rolled a few inches. 

"Christ," Bodie blurted out. "Oh sweet holy hell. What the..." He forced himself to look at Doyle. "What happened?" 

Doyle didn't move. 

"Ray?" 

Doyle's face was a white mask. He was breathing quickly now, hyperventilating. Naked, he was vulnerable and damaged. 

"Ray?" Bodie wished he could move but everything hurt. His ribs ached; his jaw throbbed. His cheeks were on fire, the skin felt flayed. His left eye was starting to swell and his right burned. Bodie gingerly swiped a hand across his forehead and down one cheek. His palm came away red with blood. 

"Please, mate," Bodie cajoled. He had to get to Doyle. He tried to roll over; his muscles refused to cooperate. 

Doyle started to shake, his head tossing from side to side. He let out a low moan of anguish, a mournful sound that made Bodie's eyes tear up. 

"Ray," Bodie croaked. "Ray, you saved me. Ah, mate." 

Doyle had shot Ann. Bodie was grateful that Doyle had done it but the very idea broke his heart. Doyle wouldn't remember what Ann had done to him while he'd been enthralled. He'd only understand that he'd killed the woman he loved. Doyle had shot Ann to save Bodie. Somewhere in his spell bound brain, Doyle had recognised the danger, and had reacted. Emotionally, Doyle was gutted. 

With a strength of will that showed Bodie how truly strong his partner was, Doyle managed to meet Bodie's gaze. His eyes revealed so much. Doyle knew that Bodie had told him the truth that day in his flat: that Ann Holly was something evil. That Bodie hadn't lied. That he believed Bodie. That his heart was broken at the loss of the woman he thought he knew and loved. 

"Please, Ray, say something," Bodie pleaded. He wished his vision would settle down. This wild flipping from blurry to clear again and again was making him motion sick. His head was so heavy he had trouble holding it up. It hurt when the back of his head thunked against the floor when his neck muscles tightened painfully. A patch on his throat burned and when he pressed his fingertips to it, they came away coated with blood. The sight of it made his belly lurch but he could tell by the dark colour that it was starting to coagulate. 

He covered the spot with the palm of his hand while he tried to remember how he'd got the wound in the first place. Vague images surfaced. Ann, attacking him. Slapping, hitting, pinching. His cock and balls ached from rough handling, and his throat was parched from screaming. He remembered more: Ann had bitten him, sucked his blood. 

Doyle had shot Ann to save him. 

Bodie let out a startled cry when his hand was pulled away from his throat. "Hey," he protested weakly. 

Doyle knelt beside him, tracks of his tears gleaming wetly on his cheeks. He set the gun aside before he pressed a square of material against Bodie's neck and wrapped it down with what looked like a floral drapery tie. Bodie watched Doyle dazedly while he performed first aid. He disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a wet towel that he laid over Bodie's face. Gently he wiped the blood away before he tossed the soiled towel aside. He produced a clean, dry one and patted down his face. Bodie lay still, letting Doyle tend to him. It felt good. Bodie wished that Doyle would talk to him, even scream at him, about what he'd done. 

_Go on, Ray, blame her death on me. Say something, anything. Please, Ray. Please._ This silent, ghostly-pale Raymond Doyle made Bodie's blood run cold. 

Doyle stood over Bodie, staring down at him. His face revealed nothing. Bodie ached for his friend. He longed to hold Doyle, to comfort him. Before he could be of any use, he had to get moving. He ordered his leaden arms and legs to respond. He felt nauseous. He'd suffered blood loss before, and he recognised the symptoms. Bugger that. _Get up on your feet, old son._

"Doyle. Ray. Water, please," Bodie whispered. "Come on, mate. Need a hand here." He had no clue how much blood Ann had taken and he probably needed a hospital but that wasn't going to happen. He and Doyle needed a bolt hole more than doctors poking them. "Help me up." 

Doyle blinked several times before he turned away. Bodie thought he was going to fetch water but instead he walked woodenly across the room, bending down to gather up his clothing and shoes. 

"Ray." 

Doyle didn't look at Bodie again. He dressed hurriedly, his movements jerky. He pulled on jeans over his blood stained legs, his hands shaking as he zipped up. He left his underpants and socks on the floor. 

"Ray!" Bodie willed himself to move. He finally managed to roll to his side. The effort made his stomach rebel and he lay panting heavily until the sick feeling had passed. The next time he looked around the room, he was alone. 

"Doyle!" Bodie called out as loudly as he could. Several minutes passed. Doyle didn't return. "Jesus. Ray?" Bodie's voice echoed through the upper level of the house. He knew he'd been abandoned. "Ray," he whispered. "Sorry, love." 

Gathering his will and all the strength he could muster, Bodie forced himself to his hands and knees. His body shook from the strain. Another minute spent with his head hanging down, panting like an old dog too weak to walk, and he pushed back to lean his bottom on his heels. A few moments later, using the nearest handy piece of furniture for leverage, he got to his feet. It took forever to pull up his trousers and button them. He ignored the sticky mess in his pants. He got his shirt on over his blood smeared torso, foregoing the coat for now. 

Taking one shaky step, then another, Bodie made it out into the hallway. He blinked, his left eye swollen. Thankfully, his right was working after a fashion and he shuffled down the corridor without bumping into anything. He found the bathroom and stumbled in to drink two large glasses of water and splash cold water on his face. He didn't bother looking at his reflection in the mirror, afraid of what would look back at him: a guilty man who'd hurt his best friend. 

Lurching out of the bathroom, Bodie walked like a drunken man to the stairs. He held onto the railing as he descended, crossed the hall and out the front door that stood open to the night. He paused, taking in great gulps of air as he looked around. How in bloody hell had Doyle been able to move after Ann had bitten him? He had to have lost far less blood than Bodie because Bodie could barely think straight. He was cold and shaking, and his stomach churned. The water helped somewhat and after another minute of taking in and letting out regularly timed breaths, he started down the empty driveway. 

Bodie would have laughed at his own brainless mutterings as he walked in the dark towards the roadway if he hadn't felt so bloody awful. 

"Where the fuck are you, Ray? Christ, leave me behind. As if you have a good reason." Bodie snorted. "Ray killed Ann. Bodie killed Ann. What a marvellous threesome we make. La de da." He chuckled. "I'm losing it. Bonkers. Barmy. Barking mad. If I had a fucking gun, I'd shoot myself I'm so useless." He stopped and patted his shoulder holster. His 9mm was still there. He started to laugh hysterically and wondered how much it would hurt to put a bullet into his own head. 

Bodie chuckled to himself, walking along, weaving. He looked up, making himself dizzy and landed on his bottom. He laughed again, threw himself back and stared up at the night sky. Stars twinkled overhead and the sliver of moon looked close enough to touch. A street light set high on a pole at the furthest end of the drive illuminated the tarmac. He rolled to his side and squinted with his good eye. A dark lump lay in the road. 

"Oh no, no. Ray?" Bodie got to his hands and knees. He pushed himself up, stumbled and caught himself. The palm of his hand dug into a rock. He ignored the sudden bite of pain and pushed himself upright. Lurching the last few steps, he fell to his knees. 

Doyle was hunched on the ground in a tight ball. When Bodie put a hand on his back, Doyle shuddered and let out a sob. 

"Oh, mate," Bodie said softly. "Come on, then. I'm so fucking sorry. Ray." He sat down hard on his bum and tugged at Doyle until he had him tucked up into his arms. Grief swamped Bodie at the wounded animal sounds Doyle began to make. He couldn't have staved off the sympathetic tears that coursed down his own face if he wanted to. "Christ, Ray, I'm s-sorry!" 

Doyle was a trembling mess in his arms. Finally, after many minutes of Bodie holding Doyle and rocking him mindlessly, Doyle's arms circled Bodie's waist. He clung to Bodie so tightly that he crushed his ribs and sent ripples of pain through his torso. Bodie bit his lip and held Doyle with his face buried in his partner's sweat-matted hair. They sat for so long that Bodie's legs cramped up. Still, he kept his mouth shut and tried to warm Doyle with his body. They both were shivering from the cold air and from the emotional trauma they'd both suffered. Bodie berated himself. He didn't deserve any comfort, any sympathy for what he'd done, but Doyle did. 

"Ray," Bodie whispered. "You're shaking. Come on, mate. Let's get the fuck out of here." 

Doyle let out a shuddering sigh and by centimetres, released his death grip. He sat back on his bottom and flexed his arms. Doyle looked at Bodie through spiky wet lashes and put a hand on his arm. 

Bodie patted his cold fingers and climbed to his feet. He helped Doyle upright and they wrapped their arms around each other's waists. Bodie led Doyle to the Capri and put him into the passenger's seat. 

"Wait here, Ray. Be right back." 

"No," Doyle finally said. "Can help." 

"No, mate. You don't have to. It's all my fault, Ray. I'm so sorry." 

Doyle shivered, shaking his head. 

"You've lost blood and you've been- Stay in the car. I'll clean up." 

"Bodie," Doyle warned. 

"Please," Bodie asked, "let me do this. I need to do this." He would do anything to keep Doyle away from having to take part in what needed to be done. "Please, Ray. I've no right to ask you for anything but I'm asking you to wait in the car." 

Doyle glared for a long minute before he nodded. Bodie could see the tension building. Every muscle seemed to tighten in his partner's body. Bodie had to move fast, get them to safety before they both melted down. 

Bodie took a blanket from the boot and draped it over Doyle's shivering form. He thought about having a slug of whisky from his stash but he was afraid he'd throw it up. He settled for a drink of water from his canteen instead. He handed Doyle the canteen. 

"It's water. Drink as much as you can. It'll help. 

Doyle took the canteen and stared down at it, not attempting to drink. Bodie sighed, wishing he could do something to help Doyle but he doubted his partner would allow any sort of comfort from him. Bodie didn't blame him. He wasn't worthy of giving anything to his partner now, not after what he'd made Doyle do. He settled for patting his shoulder before he closed the door. 

Bodie stood looking at the house for a good minute to be sure Doyle stayed put before he trudged unwillingly back into it. He forced his tired feet up to the dreadful bedroom where Ann's dried body lay. 

Shuddering, Bodie pulled a coverlet from the bed and tossed it over the body. He rolled the corpse up tightly and added two smaller rugs with blood stains and vomit on them to the pile. His strength waned quickly and he had to lean on the wall to catch his breath. He took a minute to return to the bathroom, splash more water on his face and drink another glassful. Then he made himself look at his reflection. 

His left eye was turning black. His face was swollen and the pink, blue and yellow tie looked ridiculous wrapped around his neck. He sighed tiredly and began to wipe a clean damp towel over every surface he'd touched. He did the same in the bedroom, adding the bedclothes to the pile. He kept his thoughts centred on his work and refused to let what had happened here tonight interfere with what he needed to do to insure his and Doyle's safety. 

Bodie double checked that he had the .38 in one pocket, the stake and the vial he'd tried to use in another. His 9mm was in its holster. He pulled the pile of carpeting and sheets out into the corridor. Back in the bedroom, he put on his jacket and shoved Doyle's underpants and socks into a pocket. It took two long, slow trips to get all the items down the stairs and out into the back garden. 

Beside the garage, he found a spot previously used to burn garden clippings. He made a bed of dried branches and loaded the lot from the house on top. In the garage he found a tin can full of petrol and he soaked the entire mess. He returned the tin, wiped it clean and closed the garage door. He remembered Ann's car but there wasn't anything to be done with it. No matter. The forensics boys would check it over, not find Ann or Doyle, and start a search. Bodie and Doyle would be underground by then. They'd surface when Bodie was ready and not before. Either that, or when Cowley found them. 

With a cold grin, Bodie lit a match and tossed it onto the pyre. The first match sputtered out. 

"Damn it to hell." His hand shook as he struck two more matches. They both refused to ignite. "Damp pieces of shit." He tried again and this time, the match caught. The sound of the petrol igniting with a deep whoosh gave him an immense sense of satisfaction. The material stank to high heaven and he had to move back when the fumes burned his nose. After he was sure the material was fully engulfed, he turned away, shivering in spite of the fire's heat.

The trip across the back garden seemed to take a lifetime. Bodie's feet were dragging. His vision swam. His body ached and the only thing he wanted to do was lie down, curl up and pass out. 

"Soldier on," he ordered himself. 

Back in the house, he managed to go back up the Mt. Everest of stairs and stand in the bedroom one final time. He took in the room intently. After he was sure nothing would give away what had happened, he checked the bathroom and went down to the kitchen. He found a basket and loaded it with everything portable he could find: crackers, dried fruit, crisps, and biscuits. The fridge yielded juice, beer, cheese, and soda. He piled it up and headed out to his car. 

\---------------------------

Bodie stood in the centre of Holly's drive staring at the empty space where he'd left his Capri and Ray Doyle. He felt like a moron standing there, arms loaded with pillage, surely a stupid look on his face. He blinked, looked again. The car was truly missing. 

"Ray," Bodie whined. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He wanted to cry but he was too tired. Instead, he trudged down the drive and had made it to the edge of the road when headlamps came from around the corner and headed straight towards him. He leapt back, food packets scattering everywhere. The car stopped barely a foot away, crunching over a bag of crisps. It exploded with a small _whump_ and a shower of potato flakes burst into the air. Bodie lay dazedly watching tiny slivers of potato drift down to the ground. 

"Get in, arsehole," a man's voice snarled. 

"Ray?" Bodie asked. 

The car door opened. "Brilliant," Doyle said. "You're just bloody brilliant, aren't you? Who else, moron? I can't fathom how you can possibly survive on your own with a brain like yours. You have ten seconds to get in or I'm leaving your sorry arse here to rot." 

"Eh?" 

"Ten, nine..." 

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Bodie struggled to his feet. He began to gather up the supplies. 

Doyle threw open the door, stomped over and grabbed a few items. He tossed them over the driver's seat into the back and got in. Bodie stumbled once and fell to his knees. 

"Six! Five!" Doyle revved the engine. 

"Doyle! Of all the... Wait!" Bodie tried to see his way clear with one eye. He lurched to the passenger's side. Doyle threw the door open, slamming into Bodie's leg. "Ouch!" 

"One!" Doyle slammed the gear box into first. 

Bodie fell into the car, the food tumbling this way and that. A can of beer hit him in the head. He yelped. 

"Slow down!" 

"Fuck you." Doyle reached between Bodie's legs. Bodie let out another shout when the heel of Doyle's hand slammed into his cock. Pain shot up his body. Doyle held up the runaway can of beer. He pulled the top and chugged the contents before tossing the empty in the back. 

The next victim was a bag of Cadbury's biscuits, chocolate fingers. He tore into the wrapper with his teeth and stuffed as much as possible into his mouth. Bodie watched with grim fascination while Doyle ate rapidly, chocolate dripping from his mouth. Crumbs dusted his chest. 

"Doyle? Are you...?" Bodie clamped his mouth shut. Was he really going to ask Doyle if he was all right? 

Doyle cranked his head towards Bodie and glared. Fury radiated from every pore. "Do not speak to me." 

Bodie clenched his jaw. Everything hurt like the blazes. He slowly released his muscles one by one, trying to alleviate some of the pain. Doyle drove like the devil was biting his arse, and Bodie could only hold onto the hand grip and the dash. His fingers ached as he tried to keep himself from being tossed to and fro. Another five minutes and Bodie couldn't stand it any longer. He took a noisy breath, released it and said, "Listen, Ray." 

Doyle moved so quickly that Bodie was left gaping. He yanked Bodie's gun from its holster and pushed the barrel against his head, cocking it. "Shut up." 

Bodie swallowed. "Ray, please..." 

"Stop talking! You were right, all right? Mr Bloody Perfect Bodie was right! My girl was a monster! You claim she was a vampire. Do you know how that sounds? A vampire!" 

"Yes, I know how it sounds. It's the most ridiculously stupid thing I can think of, but it's true. Every word is true. You know it's true." 

"You say it's true. That doesn't make it so." Doyle paused. "Are there many of them?" 

"No, just the opposite. They've been hunted for centuries, and very few have survived. They keep quiet, live in remote places." Bodie snorted derisively. "It's not the bloody pictures, mate. They don't run around leaving exsanguinated corpses littering the streets. You'll probably never see or hear of another. Ann was a one off." 

"Oh, wonderful. So she found me out of the millions of people in London. I must be so special," Doyle said. "Imagine that. Ray Doyle, arsehole of the highest calibre, chosen to be sucked on by a vampire because he was too much of a moron to protect himself." 

"That's not how it was, and you know it." 

"That's exactly how it was," Doyle said bitingly. "Exactly how it was. There. I've admitted how stupid I was. Happy now?" 

Each word was spat out with so much hatred that Bodie ignored the gun and his own self preservation. His anger spiked. 

"Of course not! Christ, do you think I'm that heartless?" He pulled away from the barrel and looked past the gun in order to see Doyle clearly. He saw disbelief in every line of Doyle's face. "You do! After all we've been to each other-"

"Been to each other? That's rich coming from you," Doyle said, his laughter cruel. "A quick shag and a drink. A pat of thanks on the bum and off you go to another conquest. You've never cared about me and what I want." 

In spite of his biting words, Doyle did remove the gun from Bodie's face. He stowed it under his seat. Bodie understood the gun gave Doyle some sort of reassurance, control, so he let it go for now. 

Doyle's words, however, hurt deeply. "Never cared? Jesus, Ray, I thought we meant something to each other. I don't fuck every bloke that comes along." 

"Well, thank you very much, Bodie. I'm eternally grateful," Doyle said nastily. "My life is so much richer because you fucked me." 

"That's what this is about? You wanted something from me but you never asked?" Bodie snapped back. "I'm not a psychic." 

"No but you are what you are." 

"And what's that?" 

"For sale." 

Bodie was stunned. "That's not fair. I've been a good mate to you. I've saved your life-" 

"And I've saved yours. I'm not keeping score. But you must be, as you so often remind me." Venom dripped from his words. 

Bodie was surprised how much Doyle could hurt him. "I do not. I'm your partner because I want to be, you stupid prat. Christ, Doyle, you're such a moron." 

"Like I said, you're always right. Whatever you say. My lord and master has spoken. The slave will now shut up." 

"Ray..." Bodie scrubbed at his face, avoiding the throbbing parts. This was going nowhere, around and around, like a rat on a wheel. "Let's talk about this logically." 

Doyle laughed coldly. "Yeah, right. I know how you work. You want to mess with me mind. Bad enough she- she screwed it up, apparently. You want to twist me and turn me into what you want. Your bum boy. No thanks, sir. Ta very much, mi'lord." 

"You're not thinking straight. What she did-" Bodie's head pounded. He paused, holding his breath, waiting for his stomach to stop roiling. "That wasn't your fault. Nobody can withstand a vampire's spell. I know that. It's not something you can control. Christ, look what happened to me." Bodie turned his face fully towards Doyle, showing every bruise and waited. 

"Oh, wait. I get it. Because you're so much better than me, the fact that she got hold of you means that I'm not nearly as strong or courageous. Marvellous," Doyle said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Again, you remind me of how much better you are than me." 

"I don't think I'm better than you! Christ, Doyle, you're so full of shit, you stink." 

"If you say another word, I'll put a bullet in your foot." Doyle spoke so calmly that Bodie had a sudden chill. He shut his mouth and looked out the windscreen. 

"Good," Doyle said. 

Doyle drove recklessly. He took the next corner much too quickly. Bodie was tossed from one side to the other and he banged his head on the side window. He let out a cry and he rubbed at his head. "Slow down." 

Doyle ignored him. Hedgerows flashed by in a blur of headlamps. A pair of wooden gates, a barn. Bodie stared out. In the road ahead... 

"Ray!" Bodie screamed. 

Doyle stomped on the brakes with both feet. The car skidded sideways, tyres shrieking in protest. Bodie closed his eyes, held on, waiting for the inevitable thud as they hit the bovine standing in the road. Time stopped. The car stopped. 

Bodie let out a low moan and cracked open his good eye. The cow stood chewing its cud a mere six inches from Doyle's door. It stared dumbly at them, large brown eyes oblivious to its near fate. 

The engine had died and Bodie could hear the tick, tick, tick as oil and water settled into their proper places, and the motor began to cool. 

Doyle looked over at Bodie. "I should have been able to see it. I should have known she wasn't- human." 

Bodie swallowed, then said softly, "You couldn't. Why can't you accept that you're not Superman? It's not humanly possible to realise it. I couldn't have and neither could you. She picked you because of pure convenience. You went back that day; I didn't. Simple as that." 

"I don't know if I can accept that. I don't know if I can admit that I didn't have the guts to know what was happening to my own self. Do you know how that makes me feel? Have you any idea what it's like to be controlled and not know it? How worthless?" 

"Like you're not man enough," Bodie admitted quietly. "If you'd been better, stronger, smarter, it wouldn't have happened." 

A long pause then, "Yeah." 

There was so much pain in that single word. Bodie knew exactly how Doyle felt, because he was having the same reaction. Hell, Ann had overtaken him so easily it was ridiculous. He hadn't been man enough to hold off Ann Holly. He wasn't man enough now to tell Doyle how much he loved him. Bodie told himself that now wasn't the time, but he was lying to himself. He let himself do it anyway. "You're worth a thousand of her. Of anybody else I know." 

Doyle didn't respond, and Bodie let the silence stretch. He wasn't sure what else to say that didn't sound trite but he did have one final thing left unsaid. "I haven't thanked you yet for saving-" 

"Don't." Doyle held up a hand. "Just... don't. I can't handle it right now. I'm tired and dirty and my head hurts like the blazes. You need to stop talking now. I'm not warning you again. I don't want to hear another word against Ann. She was a good woman." 

Bodie's brain lurched. Hadn't they just reached an understanding about Ann? Hadn't Doyle admitted that she was evil, had used him? Christ, he was on a roller coaster and he wanted off immediately. 

"Ray, we have to lay low. Go north. Yorkshire-" 

Doyle slapped him. Bodie knew he looked as shocked as he felt when he stared at Doyle, unable to respond. His partner was beyond reasoning at the moment. His body was coming off a high and he was spiking like mad. He was flipping from reasonable to furious in the blink of an eye. Until Doyle worked through this withdrawal, Bodie had to be careful. He didn't know if he could push Doyle one way or the other: back to health or over the edge into insanity. 

He was in so much trouble he couldn't even assess his options. 

Bodie's head hurt. His face throbbed. He had to think. What should he do? Was it safe letting Doyle drive? He studied Doyle out of the corner of his eye. No way he was going to try and get control of the car. Doyle looked as if he'd strangle Bodie if he so much as twitched. 

Bodie took Doyle's advice: he shut his gob. But his brain whirred madly. _Tread carefully. Use your noggin. Protect yourself and Ray. Stop whingeing about your sodding feelings. Fuck love. Be a man. Christ, you make me sick sometimes. Survive. Survive..._

Exhausted, Bodie started to drift off. The radio let out an annoying whine, then a voice came through. Every other word was cut off and static crackled. Doyle ignored it. Bodie yanked it from its mount with enough force to rip the cord from its housing. He threw it out the window. His r/t followed. 

"Fuck all of you," Bodie muttered darkly and closed his eyes. 

\-----------------------------

Bodie was awakened when Doyle punched his arm. He started, a cry on his lips. He blearily looked around. A roadside sign announced they were approaching Leicester. Doyle had pulled into a lay-by leading up to a petrol station. He didn't speak but put out a hand. Bodie sighed deeply. His body ached; he was careful when he twisted to dig for his wallet in a back pocket. Doyle yanked it from his fingers and took out all of the money. He threw the wallet back at Bodie, where it bounced off his shoulder. 

"Tosser," Bodie snarled, ready for a fight even if he did feel like shit. 

Doyle drove up to the pumps and got out to pay. Bodie squinted in the bright lights of the station. One of the fluorescent lights hummed, blinking wildly. Bodie's good eye teared at the painful flashing. He wiped at it, stumbling from the car. He went to the boot and unloaded his pockets. He pushed the .38 down into the duffel and covered it with clothing. He fished out a clean shirt and his first aid kit. In the men's loo, Bodie locked the door and studied himself in the mirror, reaffirming that he did indeed look like death warmed over. Felt it as well. 

Bodie took off the drapery tie and peeled away the blood soaked material that Doyle had put there. He grimaced, dabbed at the punctures with cool water, and smeared first aid cream on the spots. A clean bandage was next. It looked much better than a floral accessory. Bodie took off his grubby shirt, wiped down his torso with a paper towel and warm water, then donned the clean one. He shook the dirt from his jacket, took a piss, and washed his hands and face. He looked and felt somewhat human when he finished. As he opened the door, he heard the Capri's engine rev. 

"Shit!" Bodie tried to hurry across the forecourt before Doyle left him behind. His body had other ideas. His coordination was still off and he stumbled. Annoyed, he righted himself. "Fuck you, Doyle," he muttered. He was tired and hungry and he wasn't going to be abused. He glared when Doyle drove towards him. "Not again." He stayed put. Let Doyle run him over. Then he wouldn't have to take any more abuse from his insane partner. 

Doyle drove so close to Bodie that the tyre missed his toes by inches. He let out an annoyed growl and backed up. 

"Two seconds!" Doyle's voice called out. He reached across the seat and opened Bodie's door. "Or you can bloody walk!" 

"No. Go on. Get lost! I'll make it on my own." He looked away, arms crossed. He didn't care if he looked like a pillock or if he was acting like an emotional bird, he wasn't going to be bullied, even if he did deserve it. He did have his pride, after all. 

Doyle turned off the engine and got out. He walked by Bodie without a second glance and went around the back of the car. He opened the boot, took some things out, then shut it before going into the loo. Bodie slowly breathed in a shaky breath. He swayed and put a hand on the car to keep from taking a header. Moving like an old man, he climbed into the car and put the seat back. He had to sleep. 

Bodie didn't say a word when Doyle got in and started the engine. He did peek at him with his good eye. Doyle had wet down his hair and washed his face. He was now wearing one of Bodie's extra polo necks and his own jacket. He needed a shave and to Bodie's thinking, he should be thankful that Ann hadn't marked up his face. Still, Doyle was pale and drawn. His eyes had bags under them and his lips were colourless. Bodie reminded himself that he had to be sympathetic. Doyle had been through a lot. He'd been used as a blood slave. He'd been abused emotionally and physically, and it would take time and care before Doyle was fully recovered. Bodie ordered himself to be patient with Doyle. He hoped he would listen to his own advice. 

Doyle sat behind the steering wheel for a long time, the silence broken only by the low rumble of the car's engine. After many minutes, he finally demanded, "Where are we heading?" 

Bodie's throat was dry and itchy. He cleared his throat before he said, "Yorkshire Dales." 

Doyle put the vehicle in gear. 

"Doyle-" Bodie said. 

"I killed her for you. I killed the woman I love- loved- because of you. You made me save you." Each word was snapped out like the crack of a whip, full of pain and rage. He stared straight ahead, released the clutch and pulled away. 

Bodie could think of nothing to say except, "I'm sorry." He fell silent, his body tired, his brain in overdrive. He longed to sleep yet it eluded him. With an annoyed sigh, he leaned into the corner and closed his eyes. What the hell was he going to do with himself, and with Doyle? Assuming, of course, that Doyle recovered. Scratch that. After Doyle recovered. 

Several options came to mind: 

Stay with CI5 with Doyle as his partner. Workable but did he really want this? Would Doyle want this? 

Stay with CI5 without Doyle if Doyle did a runner. Not a happy choice but he would have money so he could eat and have a place to sleep. Existence. Great. 

Stay with CI5 and work solo if Doyle stayed but dumped their partnership. Miserable thought. He doubted he could stand to see Doyle day in and day out, and not be with him. Bodie corrected himself. He didn't doubt this at all. He knew he couldn't. 

There had to be something else. _Think. Work this out._

He could do a runner himself, leaving London, CI5 and Doyle far behind. Not a good feeling with that one. Still, he'd protect his own heart. His old self's primary job. But his old self seemed to be on walkabout. He was apparently a new Bodie now. He wanted Doyle to take his heart and hold it to his own. Bodie thought he'd spew up on himself right then and there. He was turning into a sodding teenage girl. 

Bodie cracked open his good eye and peered over. He would have given his right arm to know what Doyle was thinking. His face revealed nothing but his body screamed, "stay away!" Bodie closed his eye and returned to his favourite project: introspection. He loved doing it so much that he made sure it never happened. Bodie stifled a snigger. Christ, he was a wanker.

So what options were left? 

Oh, here's a good one. Tell Doyle how he feels, beg Doyle to forgive him, and ask Doyle to be his full time, permanent lover. In other words, get married. That's the ticket. Doyle would love that one. Bodie thought about it again, and to his chagrin, a warmth spread through him. It felt good, right. It was such a wonderful feeling, and he knew instantly that this was the option he'd choose. It was what he wanted, down to his soul. 

Making the decision was easier than he'd thought possible and he gave himself a proverbial pat on the back for having the bollocks to choose. In the end, though, as much as he wanted, he wouldn't have the final say so. Doyle would do what he wanted, and Bodie would be well and truly fucked (and not in a good way). But he wasn't one to concede defeat without a battle. He was armed now, with the righteousness of love and the burning desire to win Doyle for his own. Doyle was armed as well. With a biting tongue and the righteousness of having been used and abused by, of all things, a vampire. 

Should be easy. Be reasonable. Tell Doyle how you feel. Easy, right. Stop being a baby. I'm so tired of you, I can hardly stand it. 

Bodie agreed with himself. He was definitely barking mad. So now what? 

Now all he had to do was get Saint Raymond I-should-have-known-that-Ann-was-a-vampire Doyle to agree. He could do this. He had the looks and the charm and the expertise to woo anybody. Bodie surreptitiously studied Doyle again. The man was not a bird. Definitely not a bird. He wouldn't appreciate Bodie's seduction methods. He would put a fist into Bodie's teeth and probably blacken his remaining good eye. 

Oh, yeah. This day was turning out to be one of the best days of Bodie's life. Eating a bullet seemed easier than forging onward. Damn it anyway. He'd locked the .38 in the boot. Now where had Doyle put his 9mm? 

\--------------------------------

Doyle had been driving more cautiously since the incident with the bovine, for which Bodie was grateful. That was about all he was grateful for. As the miles flew by, the silence in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. Bodie couldn’t sleep; he was restless. He moved constantly. His fingers wiggled. His legs twitched. His back muscles spasmed. His neck ached. He ate biscuits, crackers and dried fruit (he hated dried apricots), and drank two beers and a can of Coke. He also chugged juice from the bottle. He wanted out of the car and he wanted to run screaming down the roadway, shooting at everything that moved. 

Including Doyle. 

He was definitely going nuts. 

Doyle clutched the steering wheel, his eyes straight ahead. His appetite seemed to be boundless. Bodie prayed that being released from Ann's tender loving care had given his body a kick start back to normalcy. That was not to be. This kick start was into outer space. Doyle finished off anything Bodie didn't get to first, eating things he considered toxic waste. Being shed of a vampire's spell made a bloke do strange things apparently. 

With dawn breaking, Doyle pulled down a deserted dirt path until they were well away from the main thoroughfare. He turned off the ignition. Bodie opened his mouth to ask a question. A hair curling snarl shut him up. Bodie knew this current stalemate would last only until they were out of this bloody car. Then everything would be settled one way or the other. He could only take so much abuse before he would defend himself, even against his own partner. It didn't matter any longer that he might deserve this treatment because of Ann. 

Doyle got out of the car and headed into the bushes. 

Bodie opened his door and called out, "Don't put your dick into a load of nettles."

Doyle showed him a finger. He returned a few minutes later, zipping up. Bodie took the opportunity to do the same task and had got back into the car before Doyle could drive off without him. He'd have done it himself but Doyle had taken the keys, damn him to hell. 

Doyle covered himself with the blanket and closed his eyes. Bodie sat beside him, staring. Doyle began to snore lightly. Bodie wanted to put his fist into Doyle's face. He wanted to pull Doyle close and kiss him gently. He wanted to bang his head on the window and knock himself senseless he was so confused, so miserable. Instead, he sat beside Doyle and watched him sleep, deliberately keeping his mind as blank as possible. He was hoping he was too tired to dwell on Doyle and Ann and what had happened. 

No such luck. 

Every time he closed his eyes, visions danced crazily. Flashes of Ann over him, around him, touching him. Spikes of arousal washed over him. His aching body wanted -- something. Disgusted at himself, he clenched his jaw and ordered himself to forget what had happened to him and to think about Doyle. After all, he'd been in her company for more than ten days. He had to be willing to give Doyle the time and space to get his head screwed on straight. He owed it to his partner. That, and more, but Doyle wasn't cooperating, at least the way Bodie wanted him to. He wanted...

Bodie didn't know what he wanted other than sleep. That and world peace. He started to giggle hysterically. He clamped both hands over his own mouth before he woke the sleeping monster next to him. He looked out the window, watching a sparrow hopping down the lane, eating whatever sparrows eat. His head bobbed on loose neck muscles. His eyes closed. 

\----------------------

Bodie woke with a start, his heart trip-hammering. He sat up straight, breathing hard and fast. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away with his sleeve. Countryside zipped by the window. 

"Where are we?" 

"Close," Doyle said. 

"Petrol?" 

"Got it. Destination." Doyle's words were clipped, terse, angry. 

"Kettlewell. Buttercup Cottage." Any other time Doyle would have been giggling over the romantic notion of them holed up in a place called Buttercup Cottage, but now he merely grunted. Bodie licked his lips and wished for a toothbrush. And a shower. And a way to talk to Doyle so that they both would live through it. 

Bodie studied Kettlewell as they drove through. He'd been here before. It was typical countryside. Pretty cottages, a duck pond, a small row of shops, two pubs. The petrol station looked out of place in the picturesque landscape. Doyle drove up to a building with a sign that proclaimed it to be the village store cum post office. 

"I'm guessing we need supplies." Doyle looked over his shoulder into the back seat. 

Bodie did as well. The seat was littered with wrappings from their forage, along with dripping cans and sticky paper. "I reckon." 

Doyle parked and waited. 

"What?" Bodie asked. "You took every bit of money I had." 

"Great. We've got eight pounds, ten to our names. This trip is really turning into a delight." Doyle climbed out of the car and leaned in. "I'll get the shopping. You'd best keep that face of yours out of the light of day. You look horrible. Not so pretty now, eh?" 

Bodie gave Doyle a two fingered salute. Doyle slammed the door shut without bothering with a comeback. Bodie knew today would be the first of many long, happy days with Raymond Doyle, martyr extraordinaire, first class tormentor, and all around miserable sod. 

He was thrilled. 

\-----------------------

The idyllic, serene exterior of Buttercup Cottage was in direct opposition to the disagreeable, troubled interior. The cottage was a delight of mod cons and floral charm. It was far enough from the village to be private and it was the stuff of postcards with its whitewashed walls and thatched roof. Even to Bodie's jaundiced eye, it was charming with colourful flower boxes and handmade bird houses in the garden. When he'd first seen it, he wondered if he should buy a camera and take a picture to remember it by. 

Inside, however, as clean and neat as the large combination kitchen, dining area and lounge were, with comfortable furniture and a fireplace that was to die for, the storm that brewed in the living space made the cottage feel as small as an airing cupboard. 

The first eight or nine hours had passed easily enough. Doyle had turned amenable when they'd first arrived. He'd taken a shower, made both of them a sandwich, and then fell asleep on the cottage's only bed. Bodie had given Doyle his space. After he'd soaked in a hot bath and taken half a bottle of aspirin, he'd crashed out on the sofa with an ice pack on his swollen face. 

When he'd awoken, Doyle was pacing the living room, a sweating, irrational berk one second and giggling maniac the next. Bodie kept out of his way, drank far too much tea, downed aspirin like they were Smarties, and used every bit of ice he could make on his throbbing face. 

The ice had helped. His damaged eye was partway operational and he was able to see well enough to get a meal together after Doyle had complained he was starving. 

"Dinner's ready," Bodie called, putting two bowls of warm tinned stew on the table. He added buttered bread, two cans of beer and a packet of crackers. 

"I'm not eating anything," Doyle snarled. He stopped pacing to stand in the centre of the living room, hands on hips. "Knowing you, you'd probably poison me. You wanted Ann for yourself and when you couldn't have her, you made me kill her." 

Bodie glared at his partner. "I did not! You don't believe that. Come on. You saw what she was doing to me. Do you think I asked for that?" 

Doyle shrugged. "You should know. _'Those who sow trouble, reap it'._ " 

Bodie was furious. "You're quoting me the Bible now? Where the hell do you get off with that? Exactly what did I do that I deserved what happened to me? In case you've forgotten, you're the one who went after the stupid bitch in the first place." 

Doyle's mouth curled into a snarl. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You got what you had coming to you." 

Bodie clenched his teeth together. It was a good thing he didn't have a weapon in his hand because he would have used it on Doyle to shut him up. He was shocked at the depth of hatred he felt at this moment, and he understood that he was on the edge of violence. The aftermath of that violence would gut him, and he would likely eat a bullet himself. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to rein himself in and ask in a low voice, "Are you going to eat the dinner I made?" 

"I never said I was hungry!" Doyle raised his fists, his face red with anger. 

"You did say you were hungry, not fifteen minutes ago." Bodie carefully set each utensil on the table, one at a time, with precise movements. He moderated his voice into a monotone. "Fine. Starve for all I care." 

"Fine." Doyle shouted back. "Arsehole." He stomped over to the front door, yanked it open and slammed it shut behind him. 

Bodie scrubbed at his face. Doyle was losing it big time and Bodie reminded himself that he had to keep control. He had to. But he wasn't a psychiatrist or a social worker. He was a CI5 agent, an ex-merc, and he wanted his partner back, sans dramatics. Doyle was walking a thin line with him. They didn't have the time nor the luxury to indulge in Kate Ross touchy/feely rubbish. They were blokes, not birds. They picked themselves up, dusted off their arses, and got on with it regardless of the circumstances. They were survivors. 

Bodie understood with the rational part of his brain that Doyle was driving him nuts. He flipped from being on the edge of tears to ranting and raving like a wild storm at sea so quickly that Bodie was dizzy. He also had to acknowledge that Doyle's mood swings were making him equally as crazy. He was a smart bloke! He should be able to do something to get Doyle back on an even keel. He pictured himself shooting Doyle in the arse with a healthy dose of tranquilliser and knocking him out for a fortnight. Maybe then, Doyle'd have slept through the withdrawal and emerge his old self. That idea made Bodie chuckle. 

Then he pictured himself gathering Doyle into his arms and rocking him like a baby, kissing his forehead and singing him a lullaby. That made Bodie break out in great barks of laughter. He imagined Doyle's response. In his crazy moments, Doyle kept threatening to shoot Bodie. After that, he'd deserve it. 

Bodie slumped down into a chair and ate his dinner. It tasted like so much burnt meat and sawdust flavoured veg. He forced down the food because he needed to eat, and then added two slices of bread to his belly to tame it when it started to churn. He tried a beer but after half a can, he gave up and tossed the rest of the meal into the rubbish bin. At the sink, he attacked the dishes with as much fury as he would have liked to turn on his partner. He'd told himself last night that Doyle would be like a druggie coming down from a high, with wild mood swings and raging emotions. He wanted to be understanding. He'd tried to be understanding. Doyle was not cooperating. 

_I can't do this. I want my partner back, my mate. This thing masquerading in Doyle-skin needs to be put down. Christ, put down? Maybe I'm barmy also. What do I do?_

The door flew open and Doyle all but fell in. He wrapped his arms around his middle, and stood shaking from head to toe. 

"Ray, what's wrong?" Bodie said, turning. 

Doyle's face was pale, tears staining his cheeks. His eyes were wide and unfocused. 

"Ann's gone, Bodie. I can't find her anywhere!" 

Bodie's heart thudded. Now what? 

"Bodie, please, help me find her!" Doyle raced over to him, latching onto his shirt, clutching it frantically. 

"Ray, Ray, think. Ann's gone." 

"Gone?" Doyle asked, looking around the room. "Where? We're supposed to go dancing." 

"No, you're not. Remember? She's not coming back." Bodie's heart ached. 

Doyle looked at Bodie with wide, surprised eyes. "She said I could go with her! She can't have left me!" 

Bodie pulled Doyle into his arms and waited, fully expecting Doyle to punch him. Doyle surprised him by collapsing into his embrace. He buried his face into Bodie's shoulder and sobbed. 

"Shhh," Bodie said, petting his partner's sweaty hair. "It's all right, mate. It's me and you now. We'll be okay." 

Doyle nodded. "Sorry." He sniffled loudly. 

Bodie grimaced. "It's okay. Go on and cry." 

Doyle pushed Bodie away. "I'm not crying," he said sharply. "I'm not some sodding kid, crying over some woman who's not worth my time and trouble. If she'd wanted me to be with her, she'd be here now." 

Bodie's head ached. He didn't know what to say. Something comforting and Doyle would smash him in the mouth. Something snarky and he could get the same result. He was so tired, and he didn't know how much longer he could carry on. 

Doyle cruised through the kitchen, foraging as he went. He ate everything that didn't need preparing: handfuls of crackers, a packet of crisps, a can of Coke, two hunks of cheese, a slice of bread. 

"Do you want tea?" Bodie asked cautiously. 

Doyle looked over at him, nodding, a smile on his face. "Ta. Sounds good. Do we have stuff for a sandwich?" 

Blooding fucking Jesus, but this Jekyll and Hyde thing made Bodie want to run screaming down the road, pulling out his hair. Instead, he sighed. "I'll make you one. Ham and cheese? Pickle?" 

"Sounds good. And none of that brown shit you call bread. White only, please." 

Bodie's headache ratcheted up. He fixed the sarnie and while Doyle wolfed it down, he swallowed four aspirin and prepared tea. 

"I'm sorry, Bodie," Doyle said around a mouthful of white bread, no brown, coated with mustard. 

"For what?" 

"About Ann. I'm sorry I had to shoot her but I'm glad I saved you. I'll never understand why she tried to kill you. It's so not like her! She was a sweet, kind gentle girl." Doyle sighed, a big tear sliding down his cheek. "Her lips were soft and warm." 

Bodie wanted to cry himself at the utter ridiculousness of this mess. He made tea, poured two cups. Into his own, he added a healthy dose of whisky. The first sip was heaven. The next even better. Finally, he found something he understood: liquor. 

Doyle moaned and groaned for at least ten minutes. He drank four cups of tea (no whisky for him!) and cried over Ann. 

Bodie stopped putting tea into his cup and went for straight whisky. It tasted really good going down and even better the more numb he felt. 

"Why can't you forget her, mate?" Bodie asked. "You deserve better, you know." He waggled a finger in Doyle's face. "Forget the bitch. She screwed you over." Bodie took another gulp. He was still far too sober. "In fact... In fact, you should be proud of what you did. Do you know how many blokes have offed a vamp?" 

Doyle stared at Bodie. "Eh?" 

"A vampire. Ann vampire Holly. You shot her, remember?" 

"Ah, I- Did I?" Doyle's forehead wrinkled. 

"Your forehead is adorable when it gets all wrinkly," Bodie said sagely. "Can I kiss it?" 

"No!" Doyle stared. "I killed Ann, didn't I?" 

"Yup. Good work, 4.5." Bodie saluted Doyle with his tea cup. 

Doyle reached across the table and snagged the whisky bottle. Bodie didn't try to stop him. He watched with tired eyes when Doyle chugged a huge gulp straight from the bottle. He coughed several times, eyes watering. 

"Good stuff," he wheezed. 

"Yeah. Good stuff." 

"I killed a vampire." 

"Yup. Dead as a doornail." 

"She wasn't a nice bird, was she?" Doyle took another long pull. 

Bodie admired the way Doyle's throat rippled as he drank. He liked Doyle's throat. He was glad Ann hadn't hurt Doyle's throat. In fact, kissing Doyle's throat sounded like a marvellous idea. He grinned. "You should have never, ever, ever gone back that day. You know that, don't you? That's what started all of this crap. It was all your fault." 

Doyle looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, I guess. But she was pretty. I like red hair. Still do." 

"If you'd have kept your dick in your pants this never would- would have happened," Bodie said adamantly. "You chased her until she let you catch her, moron!" He pointed a finger. "And you should be thanking me for saving your sorry bollocks. Mate." 

"Suppose you're right. I thought she was a regular person." Doyle looked so sad that Bodie wanted to touch his nose. "Stop that!" Doyle batted away Bodie's hand. 

"You owe me," Bodie reminded his partner. "Big time. I shall collect soon." 

"Fuck you," Doyle said, his tone annoyed. "You owe me for saving your life. I killed my girl and saved your life." Now it was Doyle's turn to point. "And I'll never let you forget it either." 

"Oh, goodie," Bodie said heatedly. "Just what I want, listening to you whinge on day after day after day. I'm so blessed." 

"You're not being very nice to me," Doyle said, eyes tearing once again. 

"Do not cry again. I can't bloody stand it," Bodie shouted. He stood up, knocking over his chair. The room swam; maybe he was drunker than he thought. Good. He put a hand on the table to keep himself steady. "Going to bed. I feel like death warmed up and I'm definitely tired of talking to you." 

Doyle was on his feet instantly. "The bedroom is mine." 

Bodie lifted a lip in a snarl. "No, it's not," he said, teeth clenched. "There's only one bed and it's mine. Or we'll have to share." 

"I'm not sleeping with you. You made me kill my girl." 

Bodie groaned. Not again. He turned on his heels much too quickly. The room spun lazily. Christ, he was blasted. He headed towards the bedroom but something shoved him from behind and he went sprawling onto the floor. Doyle raced by and slammed the bedroom door shut. 

"Doyle," Bodie shouted. "Ouch. I'll kill you for that." 

The bedroom door opened, and a pillow and a blanket flew through the air, landing beside him. "I've got your gun. Try and hurt me and I'll blow your head clear off." Doyle shut the door and Bodie heard the lock click. 

White hot rage coursed through Bodie. He pushed himself to his feet and pounded on the door. "Let me in." 

The sound of the gunshot that echoed through the small cottage was deafening. The bullet splintered the wood on the upper part of the door, sailing mere inches over Bodie's head, and thudded into the ceiling. Bodie staggered back, fell to his backside and sat with his mouth hanging open for a long time. Doyle had tried to shoot him. After thinking about it (as much as he was able in his drunken state), he understood that if Doyle had wanted to plug him, he would have had better aim. Doyle was the best shot with a handgun in the squad. Bodie took the warning to heart. 

Not much to be done tonight. He got to his feet and made his way across the room. He grabbed the blanket on the way; the pillow seemed to have a mind of its own. Bodie would have sworn it jumped out of his reach several times. He finally abandoned it. Bodie dropped onto the sofa with an exhausted groan, closed his eyes and passed out. 

\----------------------------

Bodie woke with sticky eyelids and mouth that tasted like somebody pissed in it. He rubbed at his eyes. Patches of sunlight dappled the floor next to him and Doyle sat in the centre of a particularly bright spot. He blinked slowly to clear the last of the sleep cobwebs from his vision before he focused on his partner. 

Doyle sat with legs crossed, arms resting on his knees, palms up with index fingers and thumbs touching. _Jnana mudra._ The name for the position came easily to Bodie. He'd seen Doyle do these meditation techniques many times before. 

His partner's eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell gently. His face was serene and he looked far younger than his years with the worry lines smoothed out and the frown he sometimes wore hidden away. 

Doyle was whip thin and sinewy. His body was toned from time spent practising martial arts and running, and if Bodie hadn't known better, he'd have sworn Doyle was the picture of health; a perfect specimen of masculine beauty. He must have showered because his hair was clean and fluffy, and the light that fell on it caught the reddish bits, creating a fiery halo about his head. 

The white t-shirt Doyle wore clung to him in all the right places and the grey track suit bottoms stretched across his groin, accenting his cock and balls. Bodie licked his lips, his mouth watering as he envisioned Doyle sans clothing. 

As appealing and attractive as Doyle was, and as much as Bodie would have desired to touch and taste Doyle, he was terrified to move or make a sound lest he break the magic spell. He wanted this peaceful, wonderful moment to last forever. The idea of another day of madness and mood swings made him shiver with horror, and he would do anything to hold onto this precious snapshot in time. 

It wasn't to last. Doyle let out a slow, even breath and brought his hands together. _Anjali mudra._ Bodie held his breath, imagining how it must feel to be a mouse trapped in a corner by a great bleeding hungry cat. What would he see when those eyes opened? Predator? Partner? Friend? Enemy? Love? Hate? 

Insanity? 

Bodie held his breath. 

Doyle opened his eyes. 

Doyle didn't smile but he didn't snarl either. Bodie took a chance and really looked into Doyle's eyes. What he saw was unmistakeable: understanding, acceptance, and determination. 

Bodie could barely breathe. "Ray?"

"Hey," Doyle said. 

"Hey yourself. How are you?" Bodie asked tentatively. His heart kicked up a notch when Doyle gave him an apologetic smile. 

"I think I'm going to be okay. Maybe." 

Was it possible? Could he let himself believe it? Was Doyle on the way to being whole again? 

Willing to test the waters, Bodie asked, "How do you know?" 

Doyle lifted one shoulder. He put his hand over his heart. "I feel..." He looked away before he turned his head to look directly at Bodie. "I feel like I am. Can't explain it." He gave a crooked smile. "It's really, really strange." 

Bodie pushed himself upright. "How's that?" 

"I woke up this morning and things were better. Clear." Doyle ran a hand through his hair. "That's why I was meditating, trying to understand." He raised his chin. "Can you believe me, especially after the past few days?" His eyes flashed defiance. 

Bodie smiled. This was his partner. Tough and gentle, snarky and caring, a mixture of emotions and feelings that comprised all that made Bodie love Doyle. He dared let hope start to wend its way into his heart. "Yes." 

Doyle sighed deeply, his eyes full of sadness. "I don't deserve you." 

"That's true," Bodie said, wishing he could take away Doyle's pain. "But we'll manage." 

Doyle gave a half hearted smile. "You look like so much yesterday's road kill." He peered at Bodie, his eyes searching his face. "Does it hurt?" 

"Tender," Bodie admitted, touching his eye. "But it's better. Can see, at least." 

"Ah. That's good. Hard to be in The Squad if you can't see, eh?" 

"Yeah." 

"Tea or coffee?" 

"Sounds good." Bodie stood up. He stretched, flexing muscles and tendons. 

Doyle went into the kitchen and started breakfast. Bodie headed to the bathroom. He took a leak, pleased that his genitals were far less tender today than they'd been the day before. He had remarkable healing powers in this body. Bodie chuckled at himself as he washed his face and hands, and took a toothbrush to his teeth. 

When he went out into the main room, he had to pause. Doyle was busy laying out toast, butter and jam. He scooped scrambled eggs onto two plates and held one out to Bodie. He was acting more like himself and Bodie was determined to enjoy the normalcy while it lasted. 

Bodie sat down and began to eat. He closed his eyes and chewed. He could feel the calmness in the air, and he had to stifle the emotions that surged through him, afraid he might start to blubber. After the madness of the past weeks, this is what he needed. For now, he was willing to accept the peace for the gift it was. Doyle poured tea for two and pushed a cup towards Bodie. 

"Cheers," Bodie said. 

Doyle nodded, picked up his fork and ate. He didn't have that ravenous appetite he'd had the past few days and he picked at the food. Bodie didn't say anything about it. He let the silence lay between them but it wasn't awkward. It had tinges of peace to it. He sent up a silent prayer to the heavens, thanking whoever cared to listen for opening the door that might very well lead to an understanding between he and Doyle. An acceptable resolution to the nightmare they'd both experienced. He hoped there would be more days like this. For now, he appreciated what he'd been given. 

Bodie cleaned up while Doyle changed into another of Bodie's shirts and trousers that were too big for him. 

"How much stuff do you have stowed in the boot of your car?" Doyle asked, buttoning up the chambray shirt. He put his own belt through Bodie's trousers and tightened it. 

"Enough for two, three months." Bodie set the dishes to drain and wiped his hands. "I wanted to be ready for anything." 

"Even the apocalypse?" 

"That too." 

"Good thing." 

"Ray," Bodie said seriously, "we should talk." 

Doyle's eyes met Bodie's. They were bleak, clouded with guilt. "Yeah, I know, but... I need to think. I can't be with you right now. I need to get outside, walk, clear my head." 

"I'll go with you." 

"I said I don't want to be with you. Not right now. I need you to give me space, Bodie." Doyle put a hand on the door. "I hate what I had to do. I hate that it's your fault Ann's dead." He held up a hand. "I don't need you telling me how I saved your life once again. I get that. I still need some time to think." 

"You can't go out by yourself!" Bodie insisted. Christ, he could have an episode, forget who or where he was; fall off a sodding cliff and bash his head open. It was too dangerous. 

"I don't need you hovering. Don't follow me and stop breathing down my neck. You keep looking at me like you expect me to turn into a raving lunatic." Doyle grabbed his jacket. "Don't follow me, Bodie. I'm asking you to leave me alone for a bit." He went out, slamming the door behind him. 

Bodie stood watching the closed door. He argued with himself for a good five minutes, telling himself to go after his partner. In the end, he let Doyle go. Doyle asked for space and Bodie had to give it to him. He would be all right eventually and if Bodie expected to stay in his life, he had to respect Doyle's boundaries. He'd come back and they'd talk. At least Bodie hoped he'd return in one piece. Rubbing at his nose, Bodie wandered over to the sofa and stretched out. He stared at the ceiling and waited for Doyle to return. 

\--------------------------

As the hours passed, Bodie grew more agitated. He'd gone outside several times and scouted around but he'd not seen his partner. Horrible scenes played out through his head: Doyle wandered out onto the road and was hit by a car; Doyle went off his nut, tripped and drowned in the lake; Doyle put out his thumb and hitched a ride, never to be seen again. Christ, he was driving himself mad. 

Bodie paced as the shadows and the hours slowly crawled past. It was close to teatime when he saw a lone figure walk down the dirt track. Doyle! He wanted to rush out; throw his arms around his partner. Either that or punch him in the face for making Bodie worry for the past half a day. Instead of doing either, Bodie made himself go over to the sofa and pick up a book. When Doyle walked into the cottage, Bodie was the picture of nonchalance. He looked up and smiled. 

"Have a good walk?" Bodie asked. 

Doyle stared over at him as if he didn't know who the hell Bodie was. Bodie stood up, book falling to the floor. Doyle shook his head and his eyes focused back on Bodie. 

"Oh, yeah. Fine." He waved a hand haphazardly. 

"You were gone a long while," Bodie said, unable to keep the worry from his tone. 

"Was I?" Doyle asked, shrugging out of his jacket. "It doesn't matter. Nothing does any more." 

Uh oh. Bodie cautiously walked over to Doyle. He expected another meltdown any second. Doyle's face was tight, his body rigid. 

"I-" Bodie cleared his throat. "It matters to me." 

Doyle's eyes met Bodie's. "Why? Ann's dead. I killed her. You don't know how that feels." 

Bodie held himself stiffly. "Thought you went out to clear your head." 

"Did clear my head. I understand what happened." Doyle shrugged, walking into the kitchen. He put the kettle on. "It's my heart that won't go along with it. 

"She used you." Bodie walked close to Doyle and put a hand on his arm. "She abused you, Ray. You can't let her win. You can't blame yourself." 

"Why not?" Doyle snarled, slamming a cup onto the counter. 

"Because you were taken against your will. She touched you, hell, she sexually abused you. You're the victim here and you killed her in self defence." 

"I killed her because she was killing you!" Doyle crossed his arms, his entire body clearly telling Bodie to back away. 

Bodie ignored Doyle's warning. "She fucked you mentally and physically. You were abused." 

"A man can't be sexually abused! I had a hard on, Bodie. I wanted her to touch me!" Doyle's eyes filled. 

Bodie sighed. They were in for another long session of tears and anger. Bodie scrubbed at his own eyes. He didn't know if he could handle another night of this. 

"Just because you got hard doesn't mean you wanted her to use you. How many times do I have to tell you she had the ability to enthrall you! You were under a spell." Bodie put both hands on Doyle's shoulders and said firmly, "You couldn't help yourself. No human could." 

Doyle stared until he finally admitted, "My head understands. My heart hurts." 

"Ah, mate, I know." Bodie longed to pull Doyle close. He tested Doyle's reaction by gently rubbing his hands up and down Doyle's arms. Doyle breathed out noisily and his shoulders slumped. His head dropped and he put his forehead on Bodie's shoulder. 

Bodie smiled to himself and cautiously passed a hand down Doyle's back. For now, he didn't push any further, letting Doyle accept the comfort he was offering. They stood together until the kettle whistled. Doyle pulled back. 

"I'm going to shower." He turned away and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Bodie pulled the kettle from the cooker and listened to the sounds of water running. He'd somehow staved off a full episode of Doyle off his nut and he hoped that he hadn't merely put Doyle on a slow simmer, ready to blow any moment. He could only pray that Doyle had begun to accept that he wasn't to blame for Ann's eventual demise. The only person responsible was Ann Holly herself. 

Tea prepared, Bodie took a steaming cup into the living room and sat on the sofa. He sipped the revitalising drink slowly until he heard the bathroom door open. He didn't turn around but listened to the sounds of Doyle preparing his own cup. Doyle came over and plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Darkness fell. The cottage was dark except for the light from the kitchen. Bodie had no desire to light a fire tonight, and Doyle seemed to be content in his spot. They sat quietly. The longer they sat, the more anxious Bodie became. He tried to convince himself he was being ridiculous but a feeling of dread descended over him. He was sure Doyle would explode at any second, and he sat on the sofa, jaw clenched, waiting, waiting, waiting, for the storm that was his partner to blow in. 

But Doyle didn't explode or rant or rage. In fact, Doyle sat beside Bodie on the sofa, one leg tucked under him, outwardly the picture of contentment. The idea that Doyle was being calm was worse than if he'd been ranting and raving. Now Bodie was scared at what had caused such a profound change. 

"Did you take something?" Bodie asked. 

"Eh?" 

"Valium maybe," Bodie mused aloud. 

"I have not taken Valium. Where would I have got it?" Doyle asked, his tone wounded. "I told you, I'm working through things. I understand what happened." He shook his head. "That's not totally true. I know what you told me." 

"I told you the truth," Bodie said defensively. 

"I know what you said. I understand the words but the idea..." Doyle's eyes were full of pain. "A vampire seduced me, used me for... What did you call it? A blood slave, and I didn't realise it. I had to kill the woman I loved-" Doyle's voice broke. He paused, clearing his throat. "The woman I thought I loved," he corrected. "Then what happened? 

"I told you what happened. More than once," Bodie said sharply. 

"Tell me again." 

Bodie let his chin drop. "I- burned her body to be sure she stayed dead." He heard Doyle's sharp intake of breath. Bodie turned his head to watch his partner. 

Doyle studied Bodie intently. "I need to understand." He blinked rapidly. Bodie hoped there wouldn't be tears yet again. He hated blubbering. "Stayed dead... Ah. Right." Doyle nodded yet seemed unconvinced. "That's a hard one to wrap my brain around." He paused again, and the way Doyle stared at him felt like a physical examination. He looked to be carefully choosing his words. "You're waiting. You expect me to... do what? Turn on you?" 

Bodie tried for flippant. "You shot at me last night." 

Doyle responded in kind. "You were bothering me." 

"Ah, okay. Good reason to blow me head off." 

"Works for me." 

Bodie caught Doyle's gaze and he looked contrite. 

"Sorry." 

"Sorry." 

"What a fucking mess," Bodie admitted. 

"Yeah." 

"And are you?" 

Doyle looked confused. "Am I what?" 

"Going to blow up on me. Again." 

Doyle sighed. "I'll try not to. I can't promise because I admit that I feel strange. Out of sorts, I suppose. I shall try to contain myself." 

"Oh, cheers," Bodie snarked. 

"For you, anything." 

"I'm so special," Bodie agreed. 

Doyle snorted with amusement before he turned serious. "Don't make me laugh. I've no right to laugh or to feel good about anything." 

"So you're going to wear a hair shirt for how long?" 

"Don't know," Doyle admitted truthfully. "What about him, Holly?" 

Bodie turned towards Doyle. "I don't have any proof, of course, but if you want my gut instinct, I don't think he was her father." 

Doyle's eyebrows rose. "Hmmm. Why not?" 

"I think she used him. Maybe for cash, or a bolt hole. Who knows? She has money, so..." Bodie waved a hand. "She took advantage and then wiped his mind somehow, leaving behind only what she wanted him to remember or what she couldn't get at, which wasn't much. That dithering we heard from him, didn't remember, didn't know. He couldn't string two words together about his own daughter." 

Doyle frowned. "When we had him in Cowley's office after the bust, he was vague about her. I thought it was unusual that he didn't seem to remember her until I poked at him about it. He did look gobsmacked. I thought he was a good actor, pretending to forget." 

"I doubt he did remember her. Think about it. She couldn't have anybody blabbing about her, why she looked exactly the same thirty years later. She caught hold of Holly and used him. We'll never know why she didn't kill him." Bodie shrugged. "He's not worth worrying about." 

Doyle picked at his fingernail. "Still, I should've known better," he admitted. 

Bodie didn't want to go over the entire thing again, but Doyle seemed to need to keep examining what had happened. Maybe it would give him some peace if he could accept what she'd done to him. "Why?" 

"Because... I don't know. I guess I reckon that if I think about it hard enough, I'll remember what happened." Doyle's annoyance at himself was evident. "It makes me feel like a moron not to remember if we shagged or that she drank my blood. How stupid is that?" Doyle crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders hunched in. 

"Listen, mate, you're not going to remember, not now or in the future. You're fighting against this supernatural force that's been perfected with centuries of evolution. Queen vampires have the ability to use sex to manipulate and enslave a man or a woman. You can't remember, even if you resorted to hypnosis or some such bollocks. And if you're going to beat yourself up over something you can't control, then you're not nearly as intelligent as I reckoned you are." Bodie crossed his own arms and gave Doyle time to think about what he'd said. 

"What about you? What do you remember?" Doyle put a hand on Bodie's knee. 

Bodie liked the warmth that spread through him when Doyle touched him. He longed to cover Doyle's hand with his own. He wished he could tell Doyle how he felt about him; that he wanted them to be more than partners, more than casual lovers. Gathering his inner courage, Bodie let himself take a step forward to getting want he wanted: he laid his hand over Doyle's. Doyle flipped his hand over and held onto Bodie's. 

Bodie studied Doyle's face for a long moment, trying to assess if his questions were because of jealousy or merely curiosity. Hoping the latter was his motivation, Bodie admitted, "Not a whole hell of a lot. I remember-" He looked up at the ceiling. "I remember feeling so turned on that I thought I'd burst into flames. I remember her coming at me, but after that... Nothing, but wanting more. Not just wanting, needing. I remember desperation. It hurt I wanted her so badly. Then what you told me after you-" He waved a hand, unable to complete the sentence. 

"After I shot her," Doyle offered. "It's all right. You can say it. I know I did it and you being afraid to say it won't change the fact that I killed Ann." He rubbed a finger across his upper lip. 

Bodie had seen that familiar gesture many times. It meant Doyle was thinking hard, and it made him smile. 

"What?" Doyle asked. 

"Nothing," Bodie said. 

Doyle's eyes narrowed and his annoyance flared easily. "You're not telling me the truth. Damn it, Bodie, I've had it with the lies!" 

Bodie grabbed Doyle's upper arms and held on. His own ire rose quickly. "Do you really want to know? Do you?" 

"I have to know, whether or not I want to. I have to know," Doyle said adamantly. "I feel like something did happen and knowing is better than imagining what went on." He looked away. "I understand that I was used. It doesn't change a thing. I want you to tell me everything I can't remember." 

"Hell, Ray, I wasn't there. I don't know everything. I can make some guesses." Bodie suddenly remembered the bugs, and he shifted uncomfortably. 

"What is it?" Doyle demanded. 

Bodie couldn't meet Doyle's eyes. "You'll be pissed off." 

"Too late." 

"I did ah, bug your bedroom." 

Doyle was quiet for a long time before he nodded curtly. "Did you tape us?" 

"No. God, no. I listened to be sure you were safe. That's all." Bodie hated what he'd done but he wasn't sorry he'd done it. It had worked. Doyle had survived. "I wanted to know for sure, about her." He looked away, unable to handle the pain he could see in his partner's eyes. "I'd do anything to keep you safe. Anything." 

Doyle was quiet for a long while. "What did you hear?" 

Bodie sighed deeply. "If it matters at all, I do think Ann cared for you as much as she was able. She wasn't unnecessarily cruel." 

"That doesn't tell me a thing," Doyle insisted. 

"All right! Christ, it's horrible, what she did. She controlled you, had you begging, pleading for her. I wanted to rip her head off!" Bodie turned away. "There. Happy?" 

"Of course not," Doyle said. "But I need to hear this." 

"Why?" Bodie threw out his hands. "She was a monster. She sucked your blood. She tried to kill me and she would have taken you away, kept you prisoner for years, decades." 

"And you saved me." 

Bodie gave a rueful smile. "Actually, in the end you saved yourself and me. My storming the gates didn't turn out quite like I'd planned." He hoped he didn't look as embarrassed as he felt. "So... Thanks." 

"Sure, mate. Glad to be of service-" 

"Ray?" Bodie saw Doyle's entire body shudder. His forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes widened. "Ray?" 

"Oh, God." 

"For Christ's sake, Doyle, what's going on?" Bodie demanded. 

"Something... head... sick..." Doyle trembled. 

"Are you having a seizure? An episode? You can tell? Explain it to me." 

"Inside," Doyle whispered, his eyes tearing. "My head hurts. I want... need her. God help me, I want her so badly it hurts." He looked at Bodie pleadingly, his eyes filling. "Like it's burning through me. Help me." 

"What can I do to make it stop?" 

"Help me, please." Doyle held onto Bodie's shoulders hard enough to make bruises. 

Bodie's stomach clenched. Doyle was in withdrawal, that much he understood. Could he delay it? Was that a good idea? Wait... Doyle was addicted. He was like any junkie coming down. Not delay, distract, interfere. Interfere! Stop him from falling into that abyss. Intercede... 

Bodie pulled Doyle into his arms and kissed him. It was gentle at first. Doyle had to agree. He couldn't force himself on his partner. Bodie had to have the okay to do this. 

Doyle stiffened, then as Bodie continued his chaste kiss, Doyle responded. His hands slipped around Bodie's shoulders. He tipped his head, giving Bodie easier access to his mouth. He parted his lips. 

Bodie groaned. Doyle's warm mouth covered his mouth. His lips were soft and a bit dry, and at their parting, Bodie slid his tongue inside. Doyle blew out a harsh huff of breath through his nose. Bodie started to pull away, fearful in turn that Doyle didn't want this or in his condition, didn't understand what Bodie was trying to do. 

Doyle let out a throaty rumble when Bodie tried to move off. His hands clasped Bodie's head and he fused their mouths together. Bodie moved back, lying down and pulling Doyle on top of him. Doyle didn't release his firm hold and he made needy whimpers as they kissed. His hips thrust against Bodie.

The need to breathe forced them apart. Bodie panted roughly, holding Doyle's shoulders. Doyle leaned his forehead against Bodie's, his chest heaving. 

Bodie lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. They were wide and clear. "Say it," Bodie said roughly. "Yes or no." 

"Y-yes," Doyle ground out. "Hurry." 

Bodie slid out from under Doyle and stood. He pulled Doyle up, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. They fell onto the bed together, Doyle on top. He plastered himself down Bodie's length, crotches meeting. Bodie gasped when Doyle pushed hard, his cock digging into Bodie's. Propped up on his hands, Doyle held Bodie's gaze by force of will. Bodie couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. He wrapped his hands around his partner's waist, holding on. Doyle stared down at him, his lips parted slightly, his eyes wild with desire. 

Doyle thrust hard against Bodie. "Yes, yes, yes." Doyle's frottage on Bodie's cock made him cry aloud. Doyle mashed his mouth down on Bodie's and drilled his tongue inside. Bodie opened his mouth and rode the tidal wave that was Ray Doyle. Doyle alternately ground their cocks together and rubbed himself against Bodie, a combination of pain and pleasure, until Bodie was meeting Doyle's parry with his own. 

Bodie closed his eyes, his hips lifting and falling in rhythm matching Doyle's. "Ray. Ah, fuck, Ray." His cock throbbed. Delicious waves coursed through him. His balls tightened. He came with a soft cry. 

Doyle hovered over him, his eyes closed. There were concentration lines on his forehead and he humped Bodie with abandon until he let out a keening cry. His eyes flew open before he slowly shut them, a satisfied grin crossing his lips. He shivered a few times before he threw himself alongside Bodie, where he lay sprawled with abandon, breathing heavily. 

Bodie put a hand on Doyle's cheek. "Did it help? You all right?" 

Doyle cracked an eye open. He looked thoroughly sated in spite of the sex having been not much more than a down and dirty jerk off. "Yeah. Marvellous. Fantastic. Ta." In the next breath, he was asleep. 

Bodie didn't know whether to be pleased at what he'd accomplished or cry that there hadn't been a lot more. "Next time. Well, I hope there's a next time." He looked over at Doyle. "I want a next time." 

Doyle slept on. 

Bodie pulled off Doyle's shoes and covered him. He stood looking down at his partner for a long moment. Things he normally didn't like to think about made themselves known. He felt things for Doyle that he didn't know he could feel. He thought he was beyond the normal wants and desires of most blokes, home, marriage, yet here he was, grinning like a loon at the man he loved, the man he wanted to protect, to be with, to hold in his arms. He gave an inelegant snort at his own ridiculous romantic notions, but he was unable to stop himself from running his fingers through Doyle's hair and kissing the top of his head. 

"I'm in love. Christ, I'm in love. Not smart, Bodie old son, but... I'm in love." Bodie sucked on his bottom lip. "I'll be all right. Doyle will be all right. We'll be fine. I should talk myself out of this. Right?" Bodie considered that for a brief moment. Did he want to talk himself out of being in love with Doyle? Was it possible? "Nah. Sod it. I'm in love and I like it. Bugger the rest of it." Done. Bodie wasn't one to pick something to death. He knew what he wanted. He made a decision. He soldiered on. 

He was a bloke. He didn't do romance. That didn't keep him from feeling extremely happy about things at the moment. Bodie wandered from the room. He gave his partner a pleased parting glance before he left Doyle to sleep in peace. The sofa would be all right for tonight, but tomorrow night. 

In the lounge, he sank onto the sofa and fell asleep with images of them spread out on the rug in front of the fireplace, making love, then cuddling in each other arms. 

\--------------------------

For the first time in his entire life, Bodie knew he'd found what he longed for, without realising he'd been missing it. He glanced over at Doyle, who was rearranging the book shelves into alphabetical order. Bodie smiled. Doyle was a good friend and companion. He was devoted, brave and had a mouth that could bring Bodie to the edge of heaven during sex and make him want to smack it when he was being a wise arse. 

Doyle must have felt Bodie's inspection because he tossed out a shy grin over his shoulder. Bodie's heart kicked up a notch, and his body flushed. He would have liked to have said something inappropriate to Doyle, such as "Christ, you're gorgeous," or "You've got the tightest arse I've seen." Bodie laughed at his own ridiculous notions. 

"What?" Doyle said, walking over. He set the stack of books on the table and put a hand on his hip, thrusting out his pelvis. 

Bodie's eyes zeroed in on Doyle's crotch. He could tell from Doyle's face that he wasn't deliberately being provocative; the randy sod couldn't help being utterly gorgeous and immensely fuckable, but the outline of his cock against the white track suit bottoms did little to hide Doyle's assets. Bodie licked his lips. 

Doyle smacked him on the arm. "Oi! Cloth ears." 

"What?" Bodie lifted his eyes until they met Doyle's. 

"You're looking at me like I'm prime steak." 

"You are." 

Doyle smiled. "Cheers." He paused, his face taking on a serious look. "Bodie." 

"Right here, mate." 

"I know that. About last night." 

"It worked. You told me you were having an episode and I stopped it." 

"Yeah. It worked." Doyle's eyes clouded over. 

"But?" 

"I feel guilty about being happy. I don't have any right to be happy. I should be doing penance or something. I killed-" 

"Stop." Bodie grabbed Doyle's upper arms and shook him. "Stop dissecting everything. If you feel happy, then be happy. Don't force yourself to be miserable. It's not fair to yourself and it's certainly not fair to me." 

"But-" 

"No," Bodie said sharply. "I'm not going to go over it again and again. If you need to talk to somebody, Ross or whoever, then fine. Talk to somebody." 

"How in bloody hell could I talk to anybody about what happened?" Doyle asked. _"Oh, Doctor Ross, I killed my girlfriend. But it's okay. She was a vampire who was using me."_

"Don't be an arse. You can visit a shrink without spilling your guts." 

Doyle laughed coldly. "You're supposed to spill your guts when you visit a shrink." 

"Then find a priest. Go to confession. They won't blab about what you tell me." 

Doyle went still in Bodie's grasp. "I think... I think that's a good idea." 

"Confession?" Bodie asked, unable to hide his astonishment. "You'd go to confession?" 

"Yeah, I would. It would make me feel better to do something for forgiveness other than you telling me everything's all right." 

"Then do it," Bodie said firmly. "There's a place you can go." 

"You know a confessor?" Doyle asked incredulously. 

Bodie lifted his chin. "I know a lot of people," he said, hurt at Doyle's surprise. "There's a bloke at St. Bart's who's just the fellow-" 

There was a knock on the door. Doyle pulled out of Bodie's grasp and stared at the door. 

Bodie held up a hand and carefully pulled away a drape to peer out the window. "Bugger. It's the fuzz." 

"Ah. Not surprised," Doyle admitted. 

"Cowley?" 

"Wouldn't bet against that." 

"Sure thing." 

Doyle opened the door. "Officer," he said cordially. 

Bodie stood behind Doyle, taking in the village bobby. The uniformed man looked far too young for policing. He couldn't be a day over eighteen, was very tall and very thin, and had a toothy grin that made Bodie smile in return. 

"PC Smythe-Jones," the man said. He took off his hat. 

"Doyle. That's Bodie," he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. 

"Ah, yes. So I've been told." 

The officer looked directly at both men in turn, and if he were surprised at Bodie's bruised face, he kept his thoughts to himself. 

"There's a rather demanding bloke in the pub asking for you. A Mr Cowley. He says to report immediately, sir." He nodded to Bodie, then Doyle. "Both sirs, please." 

His tone was so respectful that Bodie expected a salute and a bow. Any other time he might have smirked at the officer's youthful appearance and desire to please but the idea that Cowley'd tracked them down filled him with annoyance. He knew it was inevitable but he wasn't ready to lose time he was spending with Doyle, working through what had happened and getting his partner back on the path to good health. He wanted more time and he wasn't ready to be dragged back into the real world just yet. It wasn't the bobby's fault so he kept his trap shut and put a hand against the centre of Doyle's back to comfort himself. 

Doyle pressed back slightly, making Bodie smile. 

"All right, Officer," Doyle answered. "We'll be in shortly." 

"Thank you, sir." PC Smythe-Jones gave a small salute. He turned, climbed on his bicycle and pedalled away. 

"Bloody Cowley," Bodie complained, watching the man bike away. He stared after the figure as it disappeared. Blinking in the midday sun, Bodie felt sad as he admired the daffodils that skirted the pathway. The yellow flowers bobbed and danced in the breeze. Bees buzzed from flower to flower. A wren zipped by the door, a grasshopper in its beak. He wished with all his heart he could hold onto this moment in time forever. 

In the open doorway, Doyle leaned back against Bodie. "Was going to happen eventually," Doyle said philosophically. 

"I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it," Bodie said morosely. When Doyle turned to face him, Bodie put on an exaggerated pout. "I was starting to like it here with you." 

"When I wasn't a raving mad man, eh?" 

"Right." 

Doyle pushed Bodie backwards until they were in the centre of the kitchen. He put a hand on Bodie's shoulder. "We could buy it for our retirement." He leaned forward slightly and kissed him. 

Bodie wrapped Doyle in his arms, returning the kiss. "Do you think we'll live that long?" 

Doyle pushed at Bodie. His eyes were flashing with annoyance. "We'd better or I'll haunt you into hell." 

Laughing, Bodie kissed him loudly. "I believe you would."

"What are we going to tell Cowley?" Doyle asked. 

"As little as possible." 

"He'll know Ann- she's missing," Doyle said softly. "He'll want a report." 

"I'll make something up. You don't need more to confess than you already have." 

"So it's okay if you lie and I let you?" 

Shrugging, Bodie put his hands into his pockets. "It doesn't weigh on me like it does on you." 

"You hide it better, that's all." 

"I'll do whatever I have to," Bodie said firmly. 

"Let's play it as it happens. Maybe it won't come to that," Doyle said. 

"One second you're sure the world is coming to an end. The next you have faith in Cowley." 

"Life isn't fair." 

Bodie snorted. "No shit." 

"Shall we?" Doyle said, waving a hand towards the open front door. The Capri waited patiently on the gravel drive. 

"I could use a pint," Bodie answered. "And Cowley's paying." 

"That'll be the day," Doyle said ruefully. "If he does, we'd best make it a double of the best whisky in the place." 

"That probably means some crap that was cooked up last week in farmer's barn," Bodie complained. Then he sighed. "We'd better go before the old man shows up here." 

Bodie pulled the car keys from a black and white wooden kitten-shaped hook on the wall beside the front door, looking at the decoration with amusement. Any other time, he'd have been embarrassed to be in a place with such frippery, but being here with Doyle made it all right. He was going soft. As long as Doyle was about, soft wasn't going to last long. He chortled at his own dirty thoughts and gave Doyle the most angelic smile he could muster as he tossed him the keys. 

Doyle eyed him with disgust. "When you laugh like that, I know your mind is in the gutter." 

Bodie waggled his head, his lips pressed together and his eyebrows raised. 

Doyle gave him a half hearted smile. 

"What?" Bodie said innocently, blinking his eyes like some damsel in distress. He climbed into the passenger seat, waiting for Doyle to start the car. 

Doyle finally chuckled. "Stop. Whatever you're thinking about, don't." 

"You're accusing me of something?" Bodie said, feigning hurt. "I never!" 

Doyle poked a finger into Bodie's shoulder. "Don't you dare. You were thinking something dark and dirty. I know that look." 

"Moi?" Bodie planted a hand over his heart. "I swear!" 

"Don't bother. Know you, don't I? You've not got an innocent bone in that gorgeous body of yours." Doyle stopped at the end of the lane, looked both ways. He caught Bodie's eye. "What?" 

"Do you think it's gorgeous?" Bodie asked, truly curious. 

"Shut up, Bodie." 

_"Shut up, Bodie,"_ he mimicked. "Tosser." 

"For that, you're buying me lunch." 

Bodie scowled. Inside he was smiling. Doyle was doing better. He'd teased Bodie and hadn't dissolved into tears because of his guilty conscience. Bodie put a reassuring hand on Doyle's shoulder. 

"Well." 

"Well?" 

"Even if we don't tell Cowley everything, there's still a lot to decide." 

"About what we're going to do." 

"Yeah," Bodie agreed, turning slightly to better see his partner. 

"First question. Are we going back?" Doyle asked.

Bodie considered the question. "What do you want to do?" 

Doyle slowed on a sharp corner. He down shifted into third, came out of the bend and shifted into fourth. All the while, he sucked on his lower lip and looked thoughtful. Bodie wanted to suck on his lip. _Stop that!_

"I want you to not answer my questions with another one. That's not helpful." 

"Sorry, mate, but you're the one who got the worst end of everything so I want to hear what you want before I chime in." Bodie squeezed his shoulder. "I want what you want." 

"That's not an answer." Doyle gave him a quick glance. "I like this mob. It's good work. The pay's all right." He pursed his lips. "Partner's a bit of all right, most of the time." 

Bodie grinned. "You're not so bad either, mate. Some of the time."

They both smiled. 

"And so...?" Doyle asked. 

"It's not bad work. The pay needs to be better." Bodie tugged at an overly long curl. "And the partner's definitely a bit of all right." 

"We want a package deal." 

"Good idea. Like what?" 

Doyle chewed on his lower lip. "New flat, big, with two bedrooms." 

Bodie's heart rate rose and his pulse quickened. "You mean you want-" What if he's wrong? What if Doyle wanted two bedrooms so he can have more space for his album collection? What if Bodie said something stupid about wanting to make their relationship permanent? It was too soon after- everything. 

"What?" Doyle prodded. "Say it, Bodie. I'm waiting." 

"Why do you want two bedrooms?" 

"Christ, Bodie, why do you think?" 

Bodie's throat tightened. "So we can live together?" 

"Are you asking me or telling me?" 

"I- I'm asking if you'd be willing to live with me." Bodie held his breath. 

Doyle looked over at him and their eyes met briefly before Doyle returned his attention to the road. "I'm willing, if you can do something about the snoring." 

"I don't snore!" Bodie protested. 

Doyle smirked. "So we're agreed. We'll see what the old man has to say, then we'll make him an offer." 

"Is it too soon after- You know," Bodie said quietly. 

"After I killed my girlfriend?" 

"Do you have to keep saying it?" 

"Yeah, I do," Doyle admitted. "I'm not beating myself up, Bodie. I'm making myself acknowledge it and accept it." 

"Is it helping?" 

Doyle chewed on his lip for a moment. "Yes, it is." 

Bodie looked out the side window. "Then say it if you want." 

"So it's a deal, then? About the flat and us?" 

"Deal." 

Doyle held out his hand. Bodie shook it. He didn't release Doyle's hand until he needed it to down shift as they came into Kettlewell. Doyle parked in the car park next to The Angel Inn. Bodie loved the name. It made him smile. Doyle had the body of an angel and the temper of a devil. He liked all sides of his golly. Goodness but he had it bad if the name of a pub reminded Bodie of Doyle, naked and beautiful. 

"It's one of the best pubs around, angelfish," Bodie said, giving Doyle a bump in the arm with his elbow. 

Doyle scowled. "Don't call me that or I'll start calling you Wee Willie." He gave Bodie a beatific smile that guaranteed retribution. 

"You wouldn't," Bodie said, aghast. "It's definitely not wee." 

Doyle licked his lips suggestively and glanced down at the front of Bodie's trousers. "I can see how not wee it is when we speak with Cowley." 

"Come on, Ray, have a heart," Bodie pleaded. "You can't look at me with your fuck-me-now eyes when we're talking to Father." Doyle could play him like a sodding harp with that dangerous combination of angelic and devilish. He'd be mortified if Cowley saw him sporting a hard on through his trousers. 

Doyle let out a dirty laugh. "Wouldn't embarrass you like that in front of Cowley now, would I." He leaned closer and whispered, "But wait until we're in a room full of our mates." He gave a lascivious grin and slowly licked his lower lip. 

Bodie groaned. "I've got a feeling my life with you is going to be quite interesting." He opened his door. "I like it when you're like this." 

"I'm trying, Bodie. Really trying." 

"You're doing a smashing job." 

"Cheers." 

"Ray?" 

"Eh?" 

"How are you feeling?" Bodie inspected him carefully. "You know, any tingles? Whatever?"

Doyle closed his eyes briefly before he opened them. "It's okay right now. There's an odd buzzing in the back of me head." 

"If anything happens, let me know. I'll get you out of there in a jiff." 

"Should we have some secret sign?" Doyle asked. Bodie gave him a two fingered salute, making him snicker. "That'll do." 

"Prat." 

Bodie got out of the car and waited for Doyle to join him. He walked close to his partner as a show of unity. Cowley was going to see that he and Doyle were a team. They were willing to return to London and CI5, but they had conditions. 

In the pub, Bodie spotted Cowley sitting alone at a table at the back of the room. He was dressed in a suit as usual, and he looked out of place in the casual atmosphere. Cowley's face lit up when Bodie and Doyle walked in. Bodie was gobsmacked to see Cowley waving at them like they were long lost mates. Bodie caught Doyle's attention, and he appeared surprised also. 

"This is going to be bad," Bodie muttered. "He's looking far too chipper." 

"Yeah," Doyle said suspiciously. "He's going to say or do something that we're not going to like." 

Cowley nodded to both men. "Lads. Sit down. Drink?" He had three glasses of whisky already waiting on the table. He leaned back, eyeing Bodie intently before he turned his attention to Doyle. 

Bodie sat down, watching Cowley cautiously. He couldn't remember the last time his controller appeared so excited. Bodie couldn't help staring. What was Cowley up to? "Mr Cowley." 

"Sir," Doyle said, sitting down. He glanced at Bodie once again, shrugging. 

"I've taken the liberty of buying the best malt in the place," Cowley said, sipping his drink. "Not that it's anywhere near on a par with The Red Lion's choices, but it'll do." 

Bodie took a drink. He choked. The whisky was shit, just like he knew it would be. Wiping his mouth, he saw Cowley take another healthy gulp. Doyle put down his own glass and left it untouched after his first taste. 

Cowley leaned forward, elbows on the table. The only other time Bodie could remember having seen his boss in such high spirits was when Annie Irvine had come to London. He remembered that disastrous ending and his stomach gave a lurch. The whisky sloshed in his gut and he was beginning to sweat. This Cowley was up to something, which wasn't necessarily good for him and Doyle. 

"Bodie, Doyle, I was also sent on a mission. Once, many years ago," Cowley said excitedly, his voice hushed. 

"Eh?" Doyle said. 

Bodie cottoned on instantly. He also leaned forward, immediately relieved. Cowley wasn't going to say or do something he or Doyle would live to regret. He was excited because he'd been part of an obbo ordered to hunt down a vampire. Interesting. "When?" 

"1942, in the south of France!" Cowley looked from Bodie to Doyle. "Are you all right, 4.5?" he asked, his concern genuine. 

Bodie saw the light bulb come on over Doyle's head. He now understood.

"Oh," Doyle said. "Yeah. More or less. Wasn't hurt much physically." He shrugged. 

Bodie admired how Doyle could appear nonchalant when he knew Doyle was fighting with the demon inside of him. The withdrawal wasn't pleasant but as they'd discovered last night, it was controllable. Thank Christ Bodie had got Doyle away from Ann when he had. Bodie had faith that Doyle would come out the other side of this mess stronger than before. 

"Aye," Cowley said sympathetically. "It's the emotional pain that gets to you," he said knowingly. "It's not easy to come to terms with, 4.5. I'd normally insist you speak to Dr Ross but this isn't something she can be told." 

"No, sir," Doyle said. "Bodie's got an idea already." 

Cowley looked at Bodie. "Ah. Well, then I'll leave it in your partner's hands. In this area, he's as much of an expert as we're likely to have. But you're alive, Doyle. That's what's important." He then studied Bodie until Bodie shifted under the intent scrutiny. "I had no idea you were in the know, 3.7, until Nairn told me." 

"I'm in with the honoured few, eh?" Bodie replied sarcastically. "Marvellous." 

"Och, lad, it's not a good thing to have experienced but you were successful. Triumphant even, according to your old commander." Cowley beamed. "It's to your credit that you succeeded this time; that you got your partner clear. Good man." 

Bodie sipped his drink. "Couldn't let the golly take one for the team," he muttered, wishing this interview was over. 

"No, you couldn't," Cowley agreed, leaning forward. "We found the car at Holly's house. I understand it was his daughter. Where is she?" he asked quietly. 

Bodie saw Doyle look away, his hands pushed into his pockets and his lips a tight line. "Dispatched," Bodie said. 

"Good. Good," Cowley said. 

Bodie wanted to put a fist in his face. All he saw was a mission accomplished, not Doyle's pain. 

Cowley sat back and finished his drink. "I won't ask for details, of course, even though I've got clearance. We'll chalk this one up in the winning column. You're looking somewhat ragged, 3.7. A sign that you fought valiantly, I'm sure." 

Bodie preened at Cowley's words of admiration but he wasn't going to dredge up the gory details. He was relieved when Cowley dismissed the topic. "Thank you, sir." 

"And now...?" Doyle asked, his voice tight. 

"Now, 4.5, I need you both back in London. I can give you forty-eight hours," Cowley ordered. 

"No sir," Bodie said. "With all due respect, sir, we're staying on here for a time." 

"No, sir," Doyle echoed, his gaze serious. "We're taking our holiday. The one you've promised us for three years. Two weeks, starting-" 

"Starting five days ago!" Cowley conceded with little grace. "You've got nine days left. I'd use them wisely if I were in your shoes." 

Bodie could imagine Cowley in his shoes. The image of Cowley snogging Doyle gave him the giggles. Doyle kicked his foot. 

"All right," Doyle conceded with the same amount of ungraciousness as his boss. He cast a telling glance at Bodie, promising retribution after they got back to their cottage for whatever had made Bodie struggle to hide his smugness. 

Bodie briefly wondered if Cowley noticed their shared glances. Then Bodie realised that he didn't care if Cowley did know about them. Contentment washed over him. He was with Doyle, and if the world discovered their relationship, he wouldn't be losing any sleep over it. Discretion was one thing; embarrassment was another. He was proud to be Doyle's lover and if anyone had objections, they could stuff it. 

"Bodie!" Cowley said. 

"Yes, sir?" Bodie asked. 

"I asked if you agree with your partner." 

Bodie glanced at Doyle, who was watching him. He wasn't smiling but at least his eyes danced with amusement. "Eh?"

Cowley rolled his eyes. He pulled off his glasses and began to wipe them with a clean handkerchief. "Doyle was requesting a new flat. Two bedrooms." 

"Then yes, sir, I agree," Bodie said. "One of those big airy ones over on Bayswater maybe. Overlooking the park." Before Cowley could raise any objections, he continued, "Think of the savings. One flat instead of two." 

Cowley pursed his lips as he considered the idea. Standing, he picked up his coat and hat. "Savings. Yes. The budget is tight this year with the new recruits that I've had to hire. Training new agents is expensive." He looked pointedly from one man to the other. "A two bedroom flat. All right. After this last operation, I suppose I can look into it." He walked towards the door, paused and looked back. 

Bodie was sure his mouth fell open when Cowley tipped his hat to him. He nodded back. Doyle had a surprised look on his face as well. Once Cowley left, Bodie sat for a minute before he said, "Wow. Imagine that. Cowley was being nice to us." 

"Makes me afraid to go back to work," Doyle said sagely. "You remember when he shook our hands? He'll assign us to every down and dirty op he can." 

"Undoubtedly." Bodie grinned. 

"I'm surprised he drove all the way here for those few minutes. To thank us and congratulate us." 

"You're in a group of few men who know," Bodie said, putting a finger along side his nose. "It's not something that's written down. Since Cowley's had experience, he wanted to express his gratitude." Bodie looked at the door. "It's a sign of respect. Just don't expect to ever see that again." 

"Still, it's something, isn't it? Cowley telling us, 'good job'." 

Bodie punched Doyle's arm lightly. "Lunch?" 

Doyle was silent for a long minute before he nodded curtly. "You're buying, remember?" 

"You didn't bring any money, remember?" 

"Prat," Doyle said without any heat. 

Bodie rose and ruffled his curls. "Ploughman's?" 

"Cheers." 

Bodie enjoyed his lunch. It helped immensely that the memory of Ann Holly was rapidly fading away and that Doyle was working through his own memories (or lack thereof) with his usual tenacity. 

Doyle ate with gusto, something that Bodie was happy to see. Since Holly had got hold of Doyle, his appetite was better than ever. He did manage to snag the last bite of bread and cheese from his partner's plate. Doyle playfully slapped his hand. As he finished his meal, he saw his partner's forehead wrinkle. 

"Don't," Bodie insisted. "If you start trying to out think George, you'll hurt that noggin of yours." 

Doyle gave Bodie a small smile. "True. He was being awfully affable." He paused. "We're sharing a flat." 

"Yeah." Bodie lifted his eyebrow, giving Doyle a lecherous grin. He wanted to hear Doyle laugh, at least once today. "But before we start planning, can we get back to our little cottage in the meadow and shag each other senseless?" 

Doyle laughed. It wasn't hearty but it was music to Bodie's ears. 

"You're so romantic I can hardly stand it," Doyle said. 

"You want hearts and flowers, find a bird. You want this body, then shut up and take me home."

Doyle wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. He balled it up and tossed it onto his plate, rose and sauntered. No, Bodie corrected himself, swaggered across the pub and out the door. Bodie hurried to follow, his mouth dry as he admired the vision of Doyle's firm arse encased in tight jeans. He had a moment of satisfaction, thinking about how he'd laundered those jeans in hot water. Bodie had justified his actions by telling himself that the jeans had been covered in blood, and Bodie had only wanted to prevent Doyle from seeing the evidence when he wore them again. The benefits of tight denim were worth Doyle's grumbling about how he must have put on a few pounds in the past couple of days as he'd struggled to zip them up earlier in the day.

Bodie enjoyed the view, walking behind Doyle as he crossed the car park. 

"You did a great job in there with Cowley," Bodie said. "I know it was hard especially with him being so excited about- You know." 

"Yeah. Thanks. I wanted to smash his teeth in." 

"Good thing you didn't, although I understand the feeling." Bodie reached for the driver's door handle when Doyle stopped and stared across the roof with a horrified look on his face. 

"Ray?" Bodie raced around the car. Doyle's face was flushed, two bright patches of colour dotted his cheeks. His lips trembled and tears fell from his eyes. "Shit." He flipped the back seat up and pushed Doyle into the rear. He clambered in the driver's seat and headed towards home. 

"Hang on, mate. Think. Breathe. Come on. Doyle!" 

Doyle's eyes met his in the rear view mirror. 

"Listen to me. Ray!" 

"'m here," he whispered. "Jesus." He covered his face with his hands. 

"Put your hands together. Come on, Ray. Cross your legs and put your hands together." Bodie saw a dirt track up ahead. He pulled off the tarmac and down it, shutting the engine. He turned and took Doyle's hands between his, putting them together. "Breathe in. Listen to me. Breathe in and hold it. Good. I'll count to ten and you hold it. Close your eyes, Ray. Concentrate on a spot, a blue dot. See it. Fight the feelings, love. Don't let them win. Eight, nine, ten." Bodie clutched Doyle's hand. "Breathe out. Blow slowly. One, two, three..." 

Bodie babbled for at least five minutes more until Doyle slowly opened his eyes. He looked dazed, his breathing still ragged. "Ray, say something." 

"Ugh. Want to spew." 

Bodie let out a shaky breath. "Good. At least you're making some sort of sense." 

"Tossing up lunch makes sense?" 

"I didn't mean-" Bodie rolled his eyes. "Are you going to hit me?"

"Not right now. Unless you really want me to." 

Bodie guffawed. "Another time." He squeezed Doyle's fingers. "You feel well enough for me to drive us home?" 

"Yeah, sure. I'm okay." Doyle scrubbed at his face and ran his hands through his hair. "I hate this," he said tersely, waving a hand. "It feels horrible. I hate vampires." 

"So do I, mate. More than I can say." 

\------------------------------

Doyle had collapsed onto the bed the minute they'd got in and now he was deeply asleep. Bodie prowled the cottage, peering out into the night to be sure all was well. He would have laughed at himself but he recognised that he was in protection mode. Doyle was nowhere near being back to his full fighting form and Bodie was responsible for his safety. 

He forced himself to sit down and he tried to read. He stared at the words that made no sense. With a snarl at his restlessness, he tossed aside the book. Maybe a hot shower and a cuppa would help him to sleep. 

Bodie performed both chores and it was close to midnight when he found himself sprawled on the sofa, swathed in a towelling robe he'd discovered in the pile of clean bath towels. He sipped his tea, staring into the fire he'd started earlier. 

The logs burned slowly now, an occasional pop and snap as wood turned into ash. 

"Hey." 

Bodie looked over his shoulder. Doyle stood behind him, looking adorable. His hair was sleep tousled and his eyelids were half open. He had a petulant look on his face, like a small child who'd been awakened from a bad dream, and Bodie longed to gather him close and kiss him. He wore training pants and a baggy t-shirt. 

"Got any more tea?" Doyle asked. 

"On the table," Bodie said, making himself stay seated. He wanted to rush over and pour for Doyle. He wanted to do everything for him. God, he was pitiful. "Help yourself." 

"Ta." Doyle padded over to the table on bare feet and poured himself a cup. He stirred in sugar and added milk. Lifting the cup, he drank noisily. "Good, this." He came over and sat beside Bodie. 

They shared the comfortable silence for a long while. The fire burned on, casting the room with a warm glow. 

"Nice," Doyle said. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Okay. Better." 

"Good." Bodie put his cup on the coffee table. He stretched, his robe falling open. He started to tie it shut. 

"Don't," Doyle said, reaching out to still Bodie's hand. 

"All right." Bodie let the robe do as it will. 

Doyle drank his fill, his eyes trailing from the top of Bodie's head down his body to his feet. He smiled faintly. 

"Like what you see?" 

Doyle nodded. "Always have." 

"There's something I've wanted to tell you." Bodie's heart rate ratcheted up. He'd made a vow. He had to keep it. 

"Okay." 

"I know we're going to be sharing a flat, and that's good." Bodie picked at a thread on his robe. "I was wondering..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He'd never asked anybody this question before and the idea made his guts churn. Annoyed at his own meekness, he blurted out, "I've got it bad for you. I want us to be together." 

Doyle stared at him for a long moment. Bodie stared back. When Doyle didn't speak, Bodie began to fidget. He'd blown it for sure. Doyle wasn't going to respond in kind. Bodie was a moron-

"I know we're sharing a flat and I reckoned we'd shag when the mood struck. I need you to explain together," Doyle asked. 

"What?" Bodie threw up a hand. "Together. Me and you." He crossed a finger from each hand and hooked them. "It's not that hard to understand." 

"Ah."

"Ah? That's all you have to say?" 

"We're already together." 

"No, not- You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Bodie demanded, narrowing his eyes. Doyle waited. Bodie sighed. "Together, as in as close to married as we can get in this screwed up, dangerous, judgemental world. There," he said firmly. "Together." 

Doyle studied Bodie intently for a good while. Then he asked, "In or out of CI5?" 

Bodie returned Doyle's hard look. "I don't care. Either or neither. Choice is yours. I want you. Got it?" he said adamantly, turning towards Doyle. He scooted closer until his knee rested against Doyle's thigh. Bodie found the courage he needed and he forged on. Best get it out in the open all at once. "I want you, with your rotten temper and your tea slurping habits. I want your tight arse and your fuck-me-crazy mouth. Christ, Doyle, just looking at your mouth makes me hard." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You and no one else. Ever again. I'm willing to pledge that to you. Clear enough?" 

Doyle nodded, surprise on his face. His smile slowly grew and his eyes danced. "Yeah." 

Bodie looked at his partner and waited. And waited. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "And...?" 

Doyle radiated innocence. "And what?" 

Bodie threw up his hands, rolling his eyes. "You're not going to return the favour? Tell me how wonderful I am and how you'd go to the ends of the Earth for me?" 

Doyle moved closer to Bodie and said softly, "I think I showed you how much I cared when I killed a woman- vampire- who I thought I loved. Actions speak louder than words." 

Bodie felt as if he'd been hit with a hammer right between the eyes. Doyle's words took his breath away. There was pain in his words, but there was love too. Doyle had sacrificed everything for Bodie. 

"You did," Bodie said. "Thanks, Ray. I'll never forget it." He chuckled. "I'm sure you won't let me forget it." 

"True," Doyle said. "Need all the ammunition I can get." 

Bodie let out a bark of laughter. "So it's you 'n me?" he asked hopefully. 

"I have a feeling," Doyle said with a smile, "that you'll never be able to get rid of me. I'll need some space, though. Got some soul searching to do. I won't leave you out as long as you don't push. Can't stand having you breathing down my neck all the time. Sorry," he added hastily. 

Bodie searched Doyle's face. His eyes were full of love with a hint of the pain he was feeling. Bodie understood and was more than willing to accept Doyle's demands. "I'm all right with that. I'll need space sometimes too. It's not as if we don't already live in each other's pockets." 

When Doyle nodded, Bodie grinned, yanked him forward and mashed their mouths together. Their teeth clinked. The kiss deepened. They went at each other's mouths for many minutes. Bodie could barely breathe; his entire body was on fire. Each nerve was awake, alive. It wasn't the intense pain/pleasure he'd experienced with Ann, but this passion was real. It went down to his soul, and it was his to remember. 

A wild hunger raced through Bodie. He had to have Doyle for his own. He had to possess him, body and soul. 

"Bodie." Doyle pushed at his shoulder. 

Bodie sucked in a heaving breath, panting. "Sorry. Sorry." 

"It's all right. Just... slow down a bit. The way you're at me, you'd think we were going to a fire." He chuckled, deeply, and it was a dirty sound that made Bodie's heart race. "Or to a free buffet." 

Bodie patted his belly. "I'm a growing boy-" 

"Yeah, yeah," Doyle interrupted. "You need lubrication." 

"Exactly." 

"You're going to get it." The snarl in Doyle's voice made Bodie's cock jump. "You've been wanting to shag in front of the fireplace, haven't you?" 

Bodie shrugged, surprised that he was embarrassed to put his desires into words. 

"Well?" 

Doyle, damn him, wasn't going to let Bodie get away with being quiet. He sighed and finally admitted, "Been wanting you spread out on that rug since the moment we got here." 

"Ah. Yeah, I can imagine you've had dreams about that. It's not what I want tonight," Doyle admitted. 

Bodie's heart fell. Doyle didn't want him, after all. He looked away, and started to stand up. Doyle grabbed the lapels of the towelling robe. "Not so fast. We're partners, right?" Bodie nodded. "I've had a bit of a shit week or two, right?" Bodie nodded again. "I know it's been a while since we fucked and I know you have grand ideas of being the top man, but I-" 

Doyle paused, and Bodie saw Doyle's throat ripple and his hands flex nervously. Bodie gave him an encouraging smile. 

"Tell me," Bodie said. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"Of course." 

"Don't answer so quickly. You know my brain is still jumping around like a bug on hot pavement." 

"Doesn't matter," Bodie said firmly. "I trust you." 

Doyle studied Bodie intently for a long moment before he nodded. "I need to be back in control. Of myself, especially. Of you will help; give me something to ground meself on. Do you understand?" 

"Yes," Bodie said roughly. "Yes, please. Whatever you want." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. 

Bodie's breathing hitched at what he saw in his lover's eyes: desire, lust, love. His passion shone like a bright beacon of light. It was so strong that Bodie wondered if he were worthy to bask in it. He didn't say that out loud, of course. Doyle would laugh himself silly. But inside, Bodie was thrilled. Doyle needed him. Had asked Bodie to help him heal. Bodie would die for Doyle. Giving himself over into his lover's hands was easy. He put aside his own desires for the moment and waited for Doyle to tell him what to do. 

Doyle nodded once. He breathed in and out deeply. "Stand up." His tone was quiet yet firm. 

Bodie did as bid. Doyle stood beside him, and he pulled the robe away. Bodie shivered in spite of the warmth from the fire. He had the ridiculous notion to cover his cock. He ignored it and hoped he wasn't blushing under his lover's intense inspection. 

Doyle's hand cupped his cheek. "Ah, mate, you're beautiful, like you always say. Tall, dark and handsome." 

Bodie shivered again. 

"Down on the floor, Bodie. Please." 

Bodie flung himself to the floor so quickly he could have broken a toe. He let out a yelp when he mashed his foot on the corner of the hearth. 

"Take care. Don't hurt what's mine. I've use for it," Doyle said with a laugh. 

"Yes. Sorry." 

"Don't apologise," Doyle said softly. 

Bodie waited. When Doyle seemed to be frozen in place, he looked up. "What's wrong?" 

Doyle stood with his head bowed, the robe in his hands. "I want to do something we haven't done before." 

Bodie studied Doyle. He trusted Doyle. Doyle wouldn't hurt him. In fact, Bodie was sure Doyle would be able to make Bodie mad with desire. "Don't ask me. Just do it. Short of slitting my throat, you can do whatever you like." 

"It's not that bad," Doyle said.

"Ray," Bodie said, hating the tinge of whine in his voice. 

"All right." Doyle pulled the belt from the robe before he tossed the robe aside. "Lie on your back." 

Bodie obeyed without question. He lay looking expectantly up at Doyle. Doyle pulled his t-shirt off and pushed down the track suit bottoms. He kicked them aside. Bodie's heart kicked up one notch, then two. Doyle was perfect, as far as Bodie was concerned. He was thin to be sure, but muscled where a bloke should be, shoulders, arms, thighs, legs. He had the right amount of chest hair, and his groin... Christ, he was gorgeous. A full cock, thick and uncut, that rose under Bodie's scrutiny. Bodie licked his lips, his mouth falling open as he sucked in a shuddering breath. What he wouldn't give to have that cock in his mouth. Bodie moaned softly, his own cock filling rapidly. 

"Put out your hands." 

When Bodie held out his arms, Doyle looped the belt around his wrists several times, tying it in a knot. It wasn't tight but he couldn't pull his hands free. The idea made Bodie's cock leap, and he groaned, his head falling back onto the rug. He rested his hands on his belly and waited. 

Doyle knelt down, his fingers ghosting over Bodie's black eye. "Does it hurt?" Bodie shook his head. "It feels..." Doyle closed his eyes. "It's a bit hotter than the other parts of your face." Bodie didn't need to answer. He watched Doyle silently, excited at the prospect of what would happen next. 

"Wasn't right, you having a black eye and bruises on you while I've none." Doyle ran his fingers down Bodie's cheek, shoulder and chest. He stopped when his fingertips touched Bodie's nipple. The heat from Doyle's touch seeped into Bodie's skin. His nipple hardened. Doyle chuckled and leaned down, sucking it hard. 

Bodie whimpered. He briefly wondered how silly he sounded. Did he care? Doyle bit down. Bodie cried out, shuddering. Not only did he not care, he wanted more. He pushed his chest up. Doyle licked and nibbled; his fingers latched onto Bodie's other nipple and he twisted it while he ravaged the one between his lips. Bodie let out another cry. His cock throbbed. 

Doyle released Bodie's nipple. "You're mine," he said. He traced the outline of Bodie's lips with the tip of his tongue. 

Bodie longed to suck Doyle's tongue deep into his mouth but he reminded himself that this was Doyle's night. He would behave himself as long as he could and give Doyle free rein. He did, however, groan softly and open his mouth in invitation. 

"Going to make you forget how to speak. Going to take you and mark you," Doyle promised. He tweaked one of Bodie's nipples hard. 

Pain mixed with pleasure zipped through Bodie. He lifted his hips involuntarily. "Ray!" 

Doyle flicked that same nipple with a fingernail. 

Bodie trembled, his world centred on that tiny bit of flesh on his chest. Doyle returned to suckle it then worry it with his teeth. Bodie whimpered again. 

"Going to possess you so that you'll always know who you belong to." 

"Yessss. And hurry." 

"There's no 'hurry' in my vocabulary tonight. You'd best lay back and have patience." 

Bodie groaned, making Doyle chuckle evilly. His hand cupped Bodie's balls. Bodie's mouth fell open. His cock jerked. Doyle's tongue plunged into his open mouth and he tongue-fucked Bodie thoroughly. 

Doyle's hand squeezed hard enough to make Bodie's hips jerk. He moaned against Doyle's mouth, ready to explode. He skirted the edge of orgasm, not at all surprised that he was ready without Doyle having touched his cock. All he needed to tumble was for Doyle to touch his arsehole just once. Mouth open, Bodie struggled to breathe under the onslaught to his senses. He reached for that release, humping the air.

"Not so fast," Doyle said, biting down on Bodie's earlobe while he pinched the base of Bodie's cock. 

Bodie let out a yelp, eyes tearing. His orgasm receded slightly. He panted harshly, then growled, "Christ, Ray. You're killing me here!" 

"Better me than some sodding vampire, eh?" Doyle bit his throat. 

Bodie cried out at the sharp pain. He'd probably have teeth marks in the morning. The idea of being marked was a turn on. "I'm not dinner!" he protested, laughing roughly. 

Doyle chuckled. "Look like it to me." He gave Bodie a lecherous grin. "Might have me a taste of this too." Leaning across Bodie's torso, Doyle licked the head of Bodie's cock. 

"Oh God, Ray." Bodie lifted his hips, begging. "More, please Ray." 

"Soon," Doyle said. 

"You're killing me here." 

"Hush," Doyle ordered, sliding a finger into Bodie's mouth. "You're talking far too much." 

Bodie groaned, wiggling his hips. He sucked Doyle's finger desperately; his cock recovered and once again dripped onto his own belly. Doyle scraped a fingernail over his nipple, the sensation so intense that he bit down. 

"Hey. Watch those fangs."

Bodie was taken aback by Doyle's words. He swallowed his own saliva incorrectly and began to cough. 

"You all right?" Doyle asked. 

Bodie coughed again. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Fangs?" 

Doyle pulled back his upper lip. "Got one right here. See?" He pointed at his chipped tooth. 

Bodie looked at Doyle through narrowed eyes. "Looks like your vampire blood sucking days are over, mate. That's a sorry excuse for a fang if ever there was one." 

Doyle gave Bodie an exaggerated glare. "I'll show you a sorry excuse." 

"Oops," Bodie said, trying to scoot aside. 

Doyle grabbed his bound hands. "You're my prisoner. Look into my eyes." He widened his eyes and stared at Bodie. In a sing song voice, he said, "Look deeply into my eyes. You will obey me." 

Bodie licked his lips. "Can I ask you something?" he asked seriously. Doyle paused, nodding. "You're joking about it but it has to hurt." 

"Yeah," Doyle said, meeting Bodie's eyes. "It does. Badly, but being with you, being silly, it makes me forget for a little while. Is that all right?" 

"Definitely all right. Anything to take your mind off things. Anything to make you happy." 

"It's not up to you to make me happy. It's up to me, with you as my faithful companion." 

Bodie smiled. "You were saying?" 

"What?" 

"Something about obedience?" Bodie prompted. 

"Oh, right. You will do as I say," Doyle commanded, staring directly at Bodie. 

Bodie opened his own eyes as wide as he could and nodded, speaking as if he were under a spell. "Yes, master." 

Doyle laughed softly. "I like that." 

"Master Doyle." 

"Yes, slave?" 

"Fuck me please, before I explode." 

"You're awfully bossy for a slave." Doyle eyed Bodie's cock. "But for you, I'll make an exception. Just this once." 

"Thank you, master." 

"My pleasure." 

"Mine also," Bodie said, letting every ounce of love he had for Doyle show on his face. "Always." 

Doyle nodded, his eyes bright. He put Bodie's hands over his head. "Stay." He ran his fingers down the centre of Bodie's chest, through his pubic hair and around the base of his cock. Bodie held his breath. Doyle rubbed his hand against the head, spreading pre-cum across his palm. "Jesus, you're beautiful. You've got a great cock." He stroked Bodie's hardness slowly from root to head and down. Bodie closed his eyes and let the sensations roll over him. Doyle's hand was callused and the rough skin added to the pleasure of it all. "It's perfect, mate." He squeezed it gently, stroking alternately. Bodie could barely breathe. His mouth fell open and he made small breathless sounds while Doyle worked his magic. He spread his legs and lifted his hips, asking for more. 

Bodie liked hearing Doyle's breathing escalate as he skilfully worked Bodie's cock. He knew that Doyle was as turned on as he was. He kept his eyes closed, letting the sensations course through him. Waves of pleasure radiated from his cock through his entire body. Even his toes tingled. Doyle brought him to the edge of orgasm several times but refused to let him fall over that edge. 

"Doyle. Ray. Christ, lover," Bodie begged, opening his eyes. Sweat ran down his flanks and pooled on his chest. "Rayray." 

"Shhh, love," Doyle said softly. He scooted to kneel between Bodie's legs. He manhandled them until Bodie's knees were pressed to his chest. 

Bodie gasped. He had never been so exposed before but he realised that he didn't care. This was Doyle, his lover, and he had complete trust in him. Doyle's hands caressed the back of his thighs. Every nerve in his body was awake, alive. His cock throbbed. His nipples ached deliciously. When Doyle palmed his balls, they tightened. Doyle chuckled, rolling them lightly. Bodie let out a deep moan, shuddering. He glanced down. Doyle was concentrating and his tongue poked out from between his teeth. It made Bodie smile. He lifted his head to look at Doyle's cock. It was hard as steel, the head an angry red. Bodie knew he was close to coming himself. Doyle fumbled with a tube and then something cool coated his arsehole before being pressed in by shaking fingers. Bodie's head thunked back onto the floor and the anticipation made him hold his breath. He felt Doyle lean against him, the head of his cock nudging Bodie's hole. 

"Bodie," Doyle whispered. "You're so fucking amazing." He pushed. 

Bodie's body opened easily to his lover. He gasped, arching his back. His eyes flew open and he locked gazes with Doyle. "You're- you're beautiful, Ray. God damned gorgeous." 

"Bodie," Doyle said, sheathing himself as deeply as he possibly could. "Sweet- talker," he said breathlessly. He put his weight against Bodie's bent legs and planted a hand on either side of his ribcage, effectively trapping him. 

"Ray!" Bodie cried. He savoured the feeling of being stretched, of being filled, of being possessed. "Yesyesyes!" 

"Ah, fuck," Doyle said, his voice breaking. "Ah, Bodie." He pulled back slowly, letting Bodie feel every inch, before he pushed in as slowly until his hips rested against the backs of Bodie's thighs. 

Bodie's vision blurred. He blinked and noticed that Doyle's own cheeks were wet. 

"Ray," Bodie said softly. He lifted his head. 

Doyle understood. He met Bodie's mouth with his own, kissing him fiercely. His hips pumped wildly. Their mouths slid against each other, tongues stabbing, licking. Doyle's teeth latched onto Bodie's upper lip and sucked it before biting it. Bodie keened under Doyle's onslaught, his cock trapped between their bodies. Orgasm skated just out of reach. 

Doyle fucked him hard, and he was delighted. He was twisted like a pretzel, his feet over his shoulders, his arsehole spread wide, and he wanted more. Doyle was relentless, pounding into him. Bodie took each thrust with a deep grunt of pleasure. 

"Harder harder. Fuckmeharder," Bodie demanded. He could barely breathe. 

"Own you, mate. You're mine," Doyle said. "Minemine... Ahhh!" 

Doyle's thrusts became more erratic and while Bodie never wanted this to end, inevitably, he came with a cry. "Bo-odie!" 

Bodie's arse was on fire, yet he relished every pulse. Doyle's cock jerked inside of him. He held onto Doyle's gaze when he came, desperate to see his lover's reaction. He liked seeing Doyle out of control, a wild animal taking what he wanted. Bodie was amazed at what they could do together and he wanted it to never end. 

Even in the midst of wild sex, Doyle looked like an angel, his hair plastered to his face. His eyes were bright and glittered with unbridled desire. Bodie had done that to his lover, and he was so pleased he thought he'd cry. 

Doyle levered his own body up enough so that he could get at Bodie's cock. Bodie let out a gasp when Doyle stroked it with his callused hand. 

"Ray!" Bodie cried, trapped under Doyle's weight. He wanted to hump, he needed to move. Doyle controlled him, kept him in place, pulled on his cock until he was seeing stars, keening wildly. When he finally was allowed to come, his orgasm felt like an explosion. Semen shot everywhere, splattering his own face. "Rrrayy," he whimpered. Stars danced across his vision and his world went black. 

"Bodie? Bodie?" 

Bodie slowly woke. His body ached deliciously in all the right places. His arse throbbed, and his cock was limp and drained. He smiled. He'd been well and truly fucked. 

"Ray," Bodie croaked. 

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd killed you." 

"Fucked me to death. What a way to go." 

It took Bodie a few moments to pry open his heavy lids. He blinked, surprised at how difficult it was. His field of vision wavered then righted itself. He was on the floor in front of the fireplace. The fire burned merrily in its hearth. It snapped and crackled, and the warmth felt good on his face. 

"Hmmmm," Bodie said, satiated beyond anything he'd experienced before. 

Doyle lay beside him, sharing his pillow. "Hello." 

Bodie gave a languid smile. "Hello." 

"How do you feel?" 

"Marvellous." 

"Super." Doyle started to grin but he quickly pressed his lips together, looking away from Bodie. 

"Ray, don't," Bodie insisted. He put a hand under Doyle's chin so that he could look into his eyes. "It's all right to feel good. Don't cheat yourself of the pleasure." He smiled, brushing the backs of his fingers down Doyle's cheek. "Or me. I want to bask in the afterglow," he said, chuckling. "All right?" 

Doyle slowly nodded. "Sorry. Yeah. All right." 

"Fantastic." Bodie kissed him lightly. 

"Me or the sex?"

"Both." Bodie yawned. 

"Amazing." 

"Me or the sex?" Bodie echoed, unable and unwilling to temper his grin. 

"Both." 

"Berk." 

"Pillock." 

Bodie put a hand on Doyle's cheek. "Am I yours?" 

Doyle put his hand over Bodie's. "Do you want to be?" 

"Yes." 

"All right, then." Bodie grabbed Doyle's hand. "You think it'll always be like that?" 

"What? That we'll fuck each other into oblivion?" 

"When you put it that way..." 

"Shy?" 

Bodie shook his head, hoping he wasn't blushing. "Not hardly." 

Doyle looked thoughtful. "I doubt it. Won't matter though." 

"Why not?' Bodie asked, truly curious. 

"Because," Doyle explained, "we'll snark at each other, fight, fuck, but it will all work out." 

"You that confident?" 

"Yeah. We know what's what. We've saved each other's backsides enough to understand that even if I'm out of sorts and shoot at you, that I'm still there for you." Doyle held Bodie's hand tightly. "We've proved that to ourselves the past few days. Look what we went through together, and we're both still alive." He waggled his eyebrows. 

"Oh, goodie. Now I'll really have to hide the ammunition." 

Doyle pushed himself to his bottom. He crossed his legs and glared. "I pledge myself to you and what do I get? You, still harping about the fact that I shot at you once." He put his hands on his hips. "One time, Bodie. I suppose you'll never let me live it down." 

Bodie sat up and faced Doyle, their knees touching. He took Doyle's hand. "I hereby pledge that I'll be there for you, no matter what, even when you're a rat bastard." 

Doyle looked seriously at Bodie. "I hereby pledge that no matter what happens, I'll be there for you also. Even when you're an old, fat arrogant sod."

"Fat?" Bodie cried. "I'm insulted." 

"Keep eating the shit you stuff down your gob and you'll be big as a house." 

"You know what killed romance? You." Bodie rolled his eyes. 

"So do we have a deal, then?" Doyle demanded. 

Bodie eyed him testily. "Maybe. Seal it with a kiss?" 

Doyle gave Bodie a loud smack on the lips. "Deal." 

Bodie laughed against Doyle's mouth. "Berk." 

"See. No respect already. Who knows what will happen next?" Doyle threw up his hands. 

"You're not to shoot at me again!" Bodie pretended to cringe away. 

"Christ, Bodie, lay off on that, will you, before I find that gun and show you what a marksman I truly am." 

Bodie laughed loudly. "I suppose it's a good thing you're mine. Nobody else would have you." 

Doyle lifted his chin. "That's not true. Had a vampire want me. Must have sweeeeet blood in me." 

"Doyle!" Bodie cried, shocked that Doyle could joke about Ann. "You feeling all right?" 

Doyle nodded, his eyes bright. "I don't want it to be a wall between us. I think if I talk about it, it'll be better. Rather not pretend it didn't happen." He picked at a fingernail. "I have to get used to the idea that I was in love because of what she did to me, not because of how I felt about her." He gave a wry smile. "I'll not prattle on constantly, all right?"

"You're braver than I could ever be." When the words came out, Bodie realised he believed them and he was glad he said them. 

"It's either be brave or cry every five minutes," Doyle admitted. "And I'm tired of crying." 

"I'm tired of you crying," Bodie agreed. "It's highly annoying. Tell you what. I'll do my best to keep you out of more trouble but you need to help by remembering the rules." 

"Rules?" 

"Yes. There are rules. Never, ever go back into a vampire's lair. Do you not know anything from watching all those late night films?" He looked heavenward. "It's my lot in life to hang about and keep an eye on you. Keep you from doing moronic things like chase a sodding vampire until it catches you." 

Doyle looked uncomfortable at Bodie's teasing. Bodie held himself still, wondering if he'd done the wrong thing. Their relationship had always been that he'd toss out his inappropriate humour in the most awful places or situations, and that Doyle would act shocked but snigger quietly. Doyle's face flashed from uncomfortable to rueful before he began to smile. "I'm your responsibility now. Forever and ever. And I promise not to chase any vampires or werewolves. Won't even chase an elf or a gnome. Satisfied?" 

"Amen," Bodie said, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He grinned. "And I'm yours. That's that." 

Doyle nodded firmly, and Bodie ignored the brightness in his eyes. He knew Doyle's emotions were still spiking and would for God knows how long. He'd be here for his partner, even when Doyle was being obnoxious and irrational. In other words, being himself. Bodie smirked while Doyle swiped at his eyes. "I like the sound of that. After all, possession is nine tenths of the law, as the saying goes." 

Bodie remembered hearing those words not long ago. He looked away, his pulse racing when he thought about how close he'd come to losing his best friend. 

"You all right?" Doyle asked. "What did I say? Was only joking-" 

"No, it's not that." Bodie cleared his throat. "Truth?" Doyle nodded. "In your flat that night at dinner, Ann warned me off you. Told me you were hers. She said those words: possession is nine tenths. She meant it; she'd have taken you away from me." He shivered at the thought. "Stupid bitch. Sorry," he added hastily. "I know you cared about her." 

"No, it's all right" Doyle said, squeezing Bodie's hand. "You and me, Bodie, with truth between us. I can't live any other way. I'm glad you told me. You be yourself, with your rotten mouth and arrogant demeanour." 

Bodie blinked. He rubbed at his eyes. Doyle knew him well. "Fractured eyelash." 

"Yeah, me too." 

Bodie gave a huge yawn. He lay back down and Doyle joined him, tossing a blanket over both of them. Bodie rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. He studied Ray Doyle, his lover, this enigma of a man. In the growing dawn, he could see the messy hair and the strong nose. Those full lips that he had so many wet dreams about. Doyle's hand rested on Bodie's shoulder and he felt the roughness of it from hours of practice with his gun and with self defence moves. Doyle was as mercurial as the sea and as steady as a mountain. He belonged to Bodie. Thank Christ. At that moment, Bodie gave his heart willingly and fully into Doyle's care. 

Now and for the rest of his life. He guffawed at the ridiculous romantic notions he had sometimes, but it didn't keep him from smiling so widely that it hurt. He kissed the tip of Doyle's nose, put his head down and went to sleep. 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my ever helpful editors, Sally Fell, JoJo, Dawnwind and C.L. Miles. A huge thank you to my fellow mods: callisto, sineala, przed, saintvic, draycevixen and norfolkdumpling. The insanity lives on, mates! Also thanks to my artist, mstardmusketeer.


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